Crime and Punishment
by kimcooperx
Summary: Sometimes, good men do bad things, just as bad men can do good... A small town finds this out the hard way. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW.
1. Chapter 1

"Goodnight Elizabeth," Katarina Bennett said, placing a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead and smoothing down the brown, unruly curls she had inherited from her father. After the three year old muttered a tired 'Goodnight, Mummy', Katarina closed the door behind her as she left the young girl's room. Taking a quick peek into her eight month old son Stuart's nursery, she ensured he was fast asleep before making her way downstairs, pulling her hair back into a hair tie as she did so.

She knew that, in next to no time, Stuart would be wide awake and demanding a feed or Elizabeth would be curled up beside her on the sofa, telling her an epic tale of the monster hiding under her bed or the vampire outside her window, and so it was moments like these, where it was just Katarina-time, that she treasured. Taking a seat on the sofa, Katarina - or Kat as she was known to most - turned on the television to see Gregory House limp down a clinically white corridor. It had been rough adapting to the American way of life for Kat - though her husband had managed much quicker - and, while House was largely entertaining, she found herself yearning for a good episode of Coronation Street or Eastenders. But, as she poured herself a large glass of red wine, she shook her head, pushing any qualms about their 'trip across the pond' far from her mind. Sure, she missed her family, her old job working in an 'alternative clothing' boutique and the occasional trashy Manchester-based soap, but she knew that their move to America had been the best move for her family. They would never have been able to afford such a nice house - and in such a nice neighbourhood - back home. No, the move to America was best for everyone.

A soft sniffle and a little cry on the baby monitor told her that, just as she had predicted, Stuart Junior was awake and, though she rolled her eyes, Kat smiled. The eight month old was just like his father - always needing attention and, more importantly in Stu's eyes, fed.

A bottle of baby milk in hand, the raven-haired woman ascended the stairs, planning to feed her young son but was stopped in her tracks by a loud knock at her door. A glance at her watch told her that it was thirty seven minutes past eight and, while Stu was always forgetting his keys, he wasnt due home for well over an hour. The mother of two frowned, torn between tending to her son and answering the door; Stu had always told her to be careful who she opened the door to, especially at night, which certainly didn't make her feel any more comfortable with this situation. She listened carefully, hoping to hear voices from outside to decipher just who was behind the door but, at the same time, straining to hear baby Stuart. No noise came from inside the house, the twenty nine year old turning on her heel, accepting that the baby had just been making noises in is sleep. She ran down the stairs and hauled the door open.

"Are you Mrs. Bennett?" A tall man in a smart looking suit, with his long hair tied back in a hair tie much like hers stood in front of her, staring up at the house, taking in the surroundings, the expensive car in the drive way, the neat hedgerows surrounding it and, finally, inside the house, the man looking straight past Kat. His companion, however, was the one who spoke. The second man was slightly smaller than the first, with short hair and a prominent pout. "I'm Superintendent DiBiase and this is Officer Galloway - could we come inside?"

Kat was, by nature, a suspicious woman and, rather than let the officers into her house, held the door static, blocking the interior from view as best as she could. "Could I ask why you want to come inside?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and watching the long haired detective suspiciously. He was far too nosey, she decided, and was not keen to have him in the house at all.

"I'm sorry ma'am," said the short haired officer, Superintendant DiBiase, leaning forward and showing her his badge. "But we just want to take a look around your house..."

"Is yer husband in, Missus Bennett?" Officer Galloway spoke, his strong Scottish accent causing Kat to raise an eyebrow. "We'd like ta' hiv a wee chat wi' yer husband..."

"He's at work, actually, so feel free to come back whenever he's at home...Like tomorrow. Or Saturday. Or next week. Now I have to attend to my son, so please, get off my property..." And, with that, Kat attempted to shut the door on the detectives, Detective Galloway's foot coming between the door and the frame. "Excuse me, _officer_," Kat said, her blue eyes narrowed at the Scot. "But your foot appears to be stuck in my door - wouldn't want to get it stuck." The brunette pushed hard on the door, hoping to at least make him wince. She was not particularly anti-police, though her younger sister Leah had had a less than pleasant encounter with them a year or so before she had left England, leaving Kat a tad suspicious of the male officers.

"Mrs Bennett," said Superintendent DiBiase, a hand on the other policeman's shoulder to prevent the volatile Brit from snapping at the woman, his face almost puce as the door pushed on his foot, harder and harder. "We only want to speak and...and I am very sorry for my colleague here - he's had a very hard day, haven't you Drew?" The Scot made a noise at the back of his throat, but the stare he had locked on Kat never faltered, though the pressure on his foot had subsided a little.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" she replied, the force behind her door easing off little by little. While still very curious as to why they could possibly want to come into her house - and more importantly, what did it have to do with Stu? - she felt no threat from DiBiase and her resistance was soon dropping.

"We were hoping to have a word with you and your husband, get a few details here and there concerning an incident which took place last night...I'd much rather discuss this inside," DiBiase - or Ted, as he was known outside work - leaned forward and, pushing Drew back slightly, whispered, "Don't want the neighbours to start questioning things, you know?"

Kat sucked on her teeth a little - she had always hated the family next door; the wife was a traditional Stepford wife with her twinset and pearls and the idea of her and her friends chatting over tea and biscuits about how policemen had been at 'that English family's door' just didn't bode well with Kat. And so, with a resigned glare at Drew Galloway, she opened the door slowly. "You better come in then, huh?" she said to Ted before turning to Drew. "Wipe your feet before you come in, I don't need filth in my home, thank you."

"Naw ye've got enough o'that wi' Stuart, haven' ye?"

"Excuse me?" The door had only just closed behind the officers when Kat wheeled around on her heel to face the officer she had already taken a dislike.

"The quicker we get started the quicker we finish ma'am," Ted smiled, placing a hand on her tiny shoulders and urging her forward, keen to avoid any situation between his colleague. He had done anything to get another partner, had even offered to work with that Rookie, Korklan, if it meant he would get away from Galloway. But, of course, that woulda been too much to ask and so he had been stuck with the department nut who had been known to fly off the handle for the smallest thing.

"Of course, of course..." Kat muttered, still keeping an eye on the tall man who walked ahead of her into the sitting room, where House still played on the television and her bottle of red wine remained on the coffee table. "T-Take a seat...I'll just call Stu, get him to come home early?" She nodded - it had been all fine and well arguing with Drew outside but now that the two officers were in her home, she couldn't help but panic; what did they want to speak to them for? They hadn't done anything wrong... She reached for the cordless phone which lay forgotten about on the sofa and, dialing Stu's number she asked, "What was it you said this was about?"

"Just a few questions, Mrs Bennett." Said Ted, his voice calm and soothing as ever as he and Drew took seats on the sofa.

Kat nodded, before the phone was answered abruptly, "Kat, darlin' - thought I told you not to call me at work? Is something wrong? Stuart ain't gone blue again, 'as he?"

"No, sweetie," Kat said, swallowing hard. "I was wondering if you could come home early tonight, though?"

"Aw, Kat, it's been a long day an' me an' the guys were gonna hit the pub for a couple of beers after we shut up..." Stu's strong Mancunian accent boomed through the phone, though it was impossible for anyone but Kat to make out his words.

"Its kinda urgent, Stu. There are a couple of policemen here who wanna talk to us..."

"Kat?" Stu's voice quietened significantly. "Kat, go upstairs and hide the bag under Stuart's chest of drawers - I don't care how you do it, just get it hidden. I'll be home in five."


	2. Chapter 2

"Nothing, yet?" Beth Kocanksi stood on the foot of her staircase, rubbing her eyes. The blonde had awoken yet again to an empty bed, the faint noise of Our Lady Peace's 'Superman's Dead' playing from the basement and let out a low sigh. It was barely nine am and Cody was already working. And so, pulling on two mismatched socks, a pair of underwear and Cody's discarded tshirt from the night before, she went to see him. On her way down stairs she let out a groan - where once this t-shirt would have been baggy on her, it clung to her stomach, the material stretched over the bump. It wasn't long now, she thought to herself, her hand coming to rest on her stomach as the other held onto the banister to help her down the stairs. Her fiance was not, as she had thought, working in the basement, but standing by the door, the mail in hand, looking more than dismayed.

"Nah," he said shrugging and dumping the mail on the small table by the door. "Another rejection letter and three bills, just what I need right now." The Georgia native brushed past his pregnant fiance, crumpling a letter in his hand and binning it. "I'm going back down to the basement..." For the past two and a half years, since graduating from college, Cody had been an aspiring comic book writer. He had tried everything ten times over yet nothing seemed to work - it was rejection after rejection and, even then, most of that was simple 'return to sender' the companies never even looking at his work.

"Don't you want breakfast?" Beth asked, moving towards the bin and, with a loud groan, she bent down and picked up the letter Cody had binned. With a call of 'I ate already', Cody continued to walk away, heading down to the basement as Beth began to read the handwritten letter. She knew he couldn't help it, he hated the fact that she earned more than him, though any one with a job did - technically, Cody was unemployed - and it ate him up knowing that, now she was on maternity leave, there was very little income into the house. Her eyes scanned over the words on the page and she let out another sigh before walking - or waddling, as it was now - down to the basement, where Cody sat, hunched over a graphics tablet. "You didn't say your dad had written to you..." she said, little above a whisper, but still causing Cody to start.

"It doesn't matter..." he replied, without raising his eyes from the graphics tablet.

"It does, Cody..." The blonde sat herself down on the stairs, reading the letter over again. "Five thousand dollars is a lot of money - money that, right now, would dig us out of a pretty big hole..." She heard a loud sigh from Cody's direction, followed by his pen being sat down, but she didn't look up, her eyes struggling to believe what she was reading. "You told him you didn't want him to see the baby?"

Another sigh emitted from her fiancé's lips before he spoke. "Beth, I don't want him anywhere near me, never mind the baby...So, yes, I did tell him that. And if you're looking for the check, it's right here," he said, retrieving a piece of paper from his pocket before ripping it to tiny pieces and throwing it in the trash can. "I don't want any of his fucking money...Not after everything he's said and done..."

"Cody, we really need the money..." The waitress ran a hand over her stomach, glancing at her engagement ring. "We're down to our last hundred bucks and I don't even think we can afford to pay the phone bill..." Cody's eyes shot up; he knew they were struggling, Beth's maternity pay barely covering the rent but he hadn't realised how badly they were struggling. "I don't wanna bring a baby into this world if I can't afford to feed and clothe it..."

"Beth, baby, don't cry," Cody stammered out as the first tear made its way down his fiancee's cheek. Reaching out, he used his thumb to wipe the tear from her face. "Baby, don't you worry - I promise that, by the time the kid's born, we'll be sorted. I'll have a job, a stable job. I'll do anything - please just don't cry."

"You're a fuckin' comic book writer, Codes," Beth sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "You can't guarantee anything like that...Just take the money, Cody. It can help us 'til we get back on our feet, 'til I can get back to work..."

"I'm not taking the money, Beth," he snapped, the blonde jumping at the aggressiveness in his voice. "I-I'm sorry..." Cody got to his feet, raking both hands over his short hair as he walked away from her, pacing the room. "Fuck...Beth, I'm sorry but...I can't. I can't. Not after everything...I...I'll get another job. I'll sell the graphics tablets, the software, the computer. I'll sell it all, that oughta get us a couple thousand...And I'll get a job..."

"I could never ask you to do that..." Beth shook her head - for as long as she knew him, he'd dreamed of being a comic book writer and there was no doubting he was talented enough. She couldn't take that away from him...

"No, Beth...I'm twenty-five years of age, still chasing a school boy dream...Shoulda realised a long time ago that this was never gonna work..." The young man dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his. "Beth, I promise, everything's gonna be okay." Taking a long, laboured breath, he pulled her hand to his lips. "And by the time that Cody Link Runnels junior is here, he'll be proud of his daddy..."

"Cody..."

"Yeah?"

"Link will NOT be our baby's middle name..."

Cody jumped to his feet laughing and, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, "I'm gonna go get ready - I'll be back before dinner."

"Where are you going?" Beth asked, bewildered.

"To find a job..."

* * *

Five hours later and Cody was starting to panic; the bar he had been sure would hire him had just employed some college student and was no longer hiring, the gym he attended no longer had a recruitment sign up and any stores he tried were already fully staffed. There weren't many options for him - besides retail, bar work and maybe helping out at a little time gym, he couldn't see anything he could possibly work as. Comic book writing was all he knew, the only thing he felt half decent at doing. He pulled his blackberry from his back pocket and glanced at the time. It was only mid afternoon and he knew he couldn't go home just yet, it looked half hearted and Beth would never believe he was dedicated about getting a job if he wandered home at three o'clock. When pushing his phone back into his pocket, he pulled it the few coins at the bottom and counted them - just enough for a cup of coffee and a packet of chips.

There was a small cafe, just off the main street of shops, which people really went to, thanks to the windows facing out onto a construction site. It didn't do business often and Cody couldn't help but hope this would mean slashed prices. His last few dollars really did have to last him, for he sure as hell wasn't gonna start tapping into the family money. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he headed straight to the cafe - surely he could spend an hour or so there before heading down to a few bars he had already spotted but which didn't open until after five, starting the job hunting process again.

After ordering his coffee and chips, which came to just under half of what he had expected, Cody took a seat by the window of the cafe. The interior of the place was nice enough, he supposed, but the windows were dust covered with residue from the construction site and it was almost difficult to see in which was perfect, since he really didnt want to be seen at that moment in time. It was almost six by the time he left - free refills of the coffee and a free slice of pecan pie had kept him much longer than he'd expected to be - and it was already starting to look a little dark. The dark haired male rolled his eyes as he left, the noise from the construction site ridiculously loud; the chat and jovial laughter of the workers much louder than the work they were actually doing. "For God's sake, Stu," called an accent that Cody struggled to place. "How are we meant to get through all this work? We still gotta finish that job down near Heath's mom, Hennig and Bo are still out on that job and this place is a fucking mess..."

"Shut yer face, Paul," came a strong English accent, much louder than the first, which boomed from a small security hut, high above the site. "You've seen the arseholes we've had for the interviews - they'd run a mile at some of the shit we do..."

"Yeah well just hurry up and hire someone cause I'm sick of these ten o'clock finishes! This ain't even our job..."

Cody frowned. He wasn't exactly the construction-worker type but these guys, they wanted to be out there on these jobs, out working on the real stuff. Surely he could help out around the site, take some weight off this Paul guy's shoulders... And it would be good money, he imagined. "Excuse me?" he called up at the security hut. "You the manager?"

A head popped out of the door, "Who's asking?"

"Cody. Cody Runnels."

"And who's that when he's at home?" The Englishman bellowed, causing a chuckle to be heard from underneath the hut.

"I heard you guys were looking for someone to work here...I, uh, I wanna apply for the job."

"You?"

Cody frowned. "Yeah."

"Really?"

"Wouldn't be fuckin' asking if I didn't want the job..."

* * *

It had been a tough one, convincing Stu to even speak to him seriously but, once the Englishman had given up the resistance - almost half an hour later, Cody found himself sitting in the hut; him on one side of the desk and Stu and a redheaded man Cody knew to be called 'Slater' on the other. They spoke for a while, Stu wanting to know why 'a pretty boy' would want a job on a construction site, to which Slater had countered that Paul was the 'prettiest boy this side of Wisconsin and he was the best damn construction worker he had ever seen'. After a while, of course, Stu and Slater had broken into some sort of strange banter Cody could only assume was something which came to you from working on a site like this. "I really don't think this is the place for you, son," Stu laughed, shaking his head. "You've got no experience, you don' actually know what working here entails, you - "

Slater cut in, "Are pretty desperate for a job and are willing to learn. Stu, I think we'd be making a big mistake turning this boy away..."

Stu glanced, sideways, at Slater, a quizzical look in his eyes. "Training takes time, Slater. Time we don't have..."

"I'll work any hours you give me and I ain't fussed about top wages. I'll start at basic if you want..."

"Well, Cody," Slater said, leaning across the table and extending a hand. "Welcome to Bennett and Slater Constr-"

"Hold on, Slater. We ain't decided on - Aw, fuck. Hold on," Stu tried to argue. The last thing he needed - as Heath Slater should have known - was someone poking their nose into their, ahem, business. His phone vibrated in his pocket and, glancing at the caller ID, he groaned, "Its the missus."

Slater laughed, making a comment about how Stu was under the thumb, as Cody looked on. Was he hired or not? "Kat, darlin' - thought I told you not to call me at work? Is something wrong? Stuart ain't gone blue again, 'as he?" Cody let out a guffaw but soon stopped when Slater shook his head; apparently Stuart - who he presumed to be Stu's son - going blow was a pretty big deal. "Aw, Kat, it's been a long day an' me an' the guys were gonna hit the pub for a couple of beers after we shut up..."

"So, Slater, about this job..." Cody asked, watching Slater as the redheaded man listened intently to Stu's wife on the other end of the phone.

"You start tomorrow," he said hurriedly, getting his new employee's jacket from the hook behind the door. "We'll see you then, yeah?" Cody couldn't help but think that he was being rushed out, this conversation not going as well as Stu had hoped.

Just as he left the hut, just before the door closed, Cody heard a line which almost chilled him, making him wonder just what he had gotten himself into. "Kat, go upstairs and hide the bag under Stuart's chest of drawers - I don't care how you do it, just get it hidden. I'll be home in five."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N : The Paul referred to in the last chapter (who will later be called PJ, short for Paul jnr.) is Justin Gabriel, who's real name is Paul Lloyd Junior. I also referred to someone named "Bo" who should have actually been called "Wyndham". This is Husky Harris. Bo is his real life brother. Apologies for the confusion. Any questions about the use of names, feel free to drop me a line and I'll explain who they are. Thank you.

A/N 2 : Sorry about how choppy this chapter is! It'll be back to my usual from chapter 4 onwards!

* * *

"I'm really sorry we couldn't be more help to you, officers but, like I said, if you need to check my alibi, there's a good few guys down the pub that can tell you I was there," Stuart Alexander Bennett got to his feet, escorting Superintendent DiBiase and Officer Galloway to the door. "If you need anything else, feel free to drop by again – it'd probably be better if you came to see me at work, though; the missus don't like the coppers see? Its the big construction site down town, Bennett and Slater Constructions. Again, sorry we couldnt be more help..." With an exaggerated wave and a face of stone which said he was anything but sorry, Stuart watched as the police officers left the house and made their way down the drive way to their car. The tall Englishman continued to watch as they drove away, closing the door when he saw the black Volvo turn the corner at the end of the street. "Where did you put the bag?" he said through gritted teeth, his head coming to rest against the now closed door.

"Stuart," Kat's voice was near inaudible as she swallowed hard, appearing just a few yards behind her husband. "Stuart what's in the bag?"

"That's not for you to worry about jus' now, Princess," he said, turning to face her. He took one of her hands in his, looking down into her large blue eyes. "But tell me where you put it, go into the sitting room and pour yourself a large glass of red." The brunette's lips were pressed into a thin line, her face chalk white. "Trust me, Kat, I'll explain everything if you just tell me where you put the bag."

"It's in the bread bin," she said, her voice shaky and near silent. "Behind the tiger bread." Stu pressed his lips to her forehead before ushering her into the sitting room, where her 'bottle of red' sat waiting, her glass poured earlier still sitting on the coffee table.

* * *

"What about Riley?" Beth asked from under the confines and comfort of her bed covers, her baby names book held tight in both hands. "I always liked that name..."

Cody, fresh from a shower, shook his head as he towel dried himself at the end of the bed. "Nope – pick again." He said, smiling fondly at his fiancée.

"Why? What's wrong with Riley? Riley Runnels! It sounds nice!"

"Because there was this jackass in middle school – Mike Mizanin, he was called – and him and his little ass-boy used to make fun of me for drawing and shit." Beth raised an eyebrow as though to challenge what impact this had on their future son's name. "The little asshole was called Alex Riley."

"Fine – Bradley it is."

"I am not calling my son Bradley because you think Phil from the Hangover is hot!"

"And I'm not calling _our_ son Cody because you're a self-obsessed prick," Beth retorted, a smile playing at her lips. The change in Cody had been almost instant – she had seen it the second he had stepped through the door, his smile so wide she could see 90% of his little, gappy teeth. "I say we pick names out of a hat – first name's the first that comes out the hat and the second is his middle name."

"I say we call him Heath," Cody joked. "Since if it wasn't for that man, his daddy would have hung himself from the hoist outside Bennett and Slater."

Beth frowned a little, "I never liked Heath Ledger much..." she muttered sleepily, placing her baby names book on the side table. "Except in Brokeback Mountain...I liked that movie." The blonde pulled the covers over her shoulder as she wriggled further down into the bed, her eyes closing the minute her head hit the pillow. "Goodnight Cody."

"Goodnight gorgeous," he smiled at the reflection of her in the mirror. Tomorrow was a fresh start at Bennett and Slater's and, making sure that the polo shirt and jeans he had left out to wear the next morning were clean, the dark haired male chuckled to himself – so what if his bosses seemed a bit odd, maybe even a bit shady, as long as they paid him good wages, he wasn't one to argue.

* * *

"I don't understand Stu..." Kat swallowed hard, looking at the contents of the blue, plastic bag she had hidden in the bread bin just two hours previous. Her eyes darted across the floor, where Stuart had emptied the bag. "Where did you get all of this?"

"Kat, I need you to promise me something and you can't break this promise," Stu stared intently at his wife, who's eyes never left the table. "Kat?" A soft 'mhmm' escaped the twenty-nine year old's lips, the look in her eyes changing momentarily from fear and confusion to wonder and excitement. "You can't tell anyone about this – not even Layla."

The brunette leaned forward and tentatively ran a finger over some of the things on the table. "You really think I wanna tell her that my husband's...that my husband's..."she paused, her fingers closing over the cold metal of one item. "What are you?"

"Kat please put that down – you don't wanna lose a toe like Skip did, do you?" Stu admonished, feeling like he was talking to young Elizabeth. "And what do you mean, what am I?" he replied, chortling as he removed the object from Kat's grip.

"Well I always thought you were a construction worker but, Stuart, construction workers don't have these kinda things stashed under their son's cot..." Kat stopped, her eyes widening in horror before launching herself at her husband, her small fists hitting at his chest. "You complete arsehole! What if Elizabeth had found that bag, hmm? It woulda been more than a toe she lost! How could you bring that sort of stuff into the house!"

Stu grabbed her wrists with both hands. "Why do you think I like keeping her in the sitting room? That way she's away from all the dangerous things – the knives in the kitchen, ornaments on the shaky shelf in her bedroom..."

"Drugs, guns and fistfuls of cash?" Kat replied, her protective, practical and mothering side kicking in. "Bit different, huh, Stu?"

"Katarina Leigh Bennett will you give me a chance to explain?" Stu was speaking slowly now, with deep breaths in between speech. "How long have we been together?"

"Nine years." Kat replied, straining against his grip.

"And have I ever put you in danger?"

"That's not the point Stu! Our children -"

"Answer my question."

"No."

"And have I ever put Elizabeth or little Stuart in danger?" Reluctantly, Kat shook her head, her husband's grip loosening on her wrists. "I am good at what I do. Careful. Quick. Tonight was a mistake – PJ's old lady came over from South Africa last week and she's a clean freak. He couldn't have this sorta stuff at home, could he?" Kat shook her head again as Stu continued in his cool, calming voice. He spoke slower now, and much quieter, reassuring the brunette as his mouth curved into a crooked smile. "This is no more dangerous than when we first met – remember?" Kat laughed nervously and nodded. "In fact – between you and me – I think this is more safe than a marine biology student fighting for money between lectures." The Englishman released her wrists completely, moving one hand up to cup her cheek, his large thumb coming to rest against her lips. "I love you, Kat, and I'm not gonna put you in any danger. You just gotta trust me and I'll answer any questions you have in the morning. But for now, how about an early night?" And, with a cheeky glint in his eye, Stu leaned in, replacing his thumb with his lips as his free hand slid down Kat's side, his fingers working their way under the hem of her shirt.

* * *

"Pass the milk, love," Stu laughed, only his eyes visible behind the large broadsheet newspaper he was reading. "Coffee's still a bit black..."

Kat raised an eyebrow in response, handing over the jug of milk she retrieved from the fridge. "That's your third cup of coffee this morning, Stu – it's not good for you!"

"An' its not gonna be my last – got a new start today. Heath went right over my head and hired him, didn't he? Weedy looking kid – looks like he stepped out of one of them Ambercrombie and Fitch catalogues." Stu shuddered at the thought of what that guy – Colin, was it? - was gonna wear to work. "Just gonna hope Hennig's done with that little bit of work downtown...Can dump him with him and David..."

Elizabeth sat sipping from her glass of juice as Kat brushed her unruly curls. "Daddy can I come to work with you? I don't like kindergarten – the kids are smelly and say I talk funny." The small girl pouted, her bottom lip sticking out comically. She was three weeks shy of four years of age and the spitting image of her mother – save for the curls; those were entirely Stu's fault.

"No!" Kat replied a little too hastily, causing Stu to raise an eyebrow, chuckling. "I mean, your daddy's busy today what with the new man. But how about you and I get ice-cream after kindergarten and maybe on Monday we can visit daddy at work?" Stu smiled, not expecting that reply as his daughter nodded eagerly, tangling the brush in her hair. "Now, shouldn't you be off by now, Stu? It's half past eight and you know what the traffic's like..."

The man of the house rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I s'pose..." draining the cup of the newly milky coffee, Stu got to his feet, pulling on the suit jacket which had lain over the back of his chair. Adjusting himself, he placed a kiss on baby Stuart's head, ruffled Elizabeth's curls (much to Kat's annoyance) and gave Kat a lingering kiss goodbye. "See you tonight – I'll knock off about five, tonight. We can go for dinner, yeah?" And, leaving Kat grinning like a school girl, Stu left for work.

* * *

The office was cold which made no change, really, yet Ted could not shake the feeling that it would echo his boss's attitude. Wringing his hands over and over, Ted swallowed hard – he had done all he could the night before but Bennett had an alibi. He had been in the local sports bar, watching the LA Galaxy game and had about two dozen witnesses who could all confirm that he had been there. In fact, he had made himself quite well known in the bar, the bar tender had informed Ted. He and Wyndham Rotunda, one of his lackies, had spent most of the night enjoying beers until a regular had made a comment about the game being played – Wyndham had taken offence and, throwing a chair, had started a brawl. Stuart, playing the English gentleman, had hauled his younger friend from the fray before handing the barman a set of twenties, held together with a money clip, apologised for his friend's behaviour and left without another word. Now, naturally, Ted knew that Stu and Wyndham had made themselves known, to give themselves a credible alibi, yet this little nugget of information did not help calm his nerves. "Dibiase," a voice broke through his thoughts, the click of the door closing following the call of his name. "How'd you get on with Galloway last night?"

"Well Bennett's wife almost broke his foot, he called her husband scum and then woke the little girl up, creeping in her room trying to find evidence that her daddy's a murderer. So, all in all, better than Cena managed with him...Though we're lucky we don't have some sort of charge against him..." Ted replied, turning to face his boss. His blonde hair was tied back in a slick ponytail and his moustache was brushed to perfection, the suit on his back was a tight fit and the black shoes on his feet shone under the square light on the ceiling. Everything about Hunter Helmsley told Ted that he meant business.

"Typical...Think I'll send him down to forensics for a couple of weeks. He can work with Phoenix and Hager for a bit..." Hunter made his way round to his desk, taking a seat behind it and adjusting his tie. Again, Ted couldn't help but note that everything was all about business today. "So what did you two find?"

"Well, that's the thing Hunter..."

"Don't tell me you guys didn't get anything!"

"Well, we did get something...his alibi. Which we checked out... Seems him and Rotunda made a bit of a scene – they wanted to be seen, Hunter, and believe me, they were..."

"And have you checked out the other guys alibis?" Hunter's eyes were boring down on him now and Ted could almost feel two small holes burning into him from the blond man's gaze.

"I've got Galloway checking those out now. He's been texting me regular updates – so far, Slater and Lloyd both have alibis, they were wining and dining some old lady down at that shellfish place we went for your promotion. He's currently," Ted removed his iphone from his trouser pocket. "Nope, he's done there. Hennig has an alibi too... He was," Ted's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "He was at church, doing a reading at the late mass..."

"Typical. Fucking typical," Hunter's fist smashed against the desk and Ted was almost certain his shirt – or jacket, or both – was going to burst from the exertion. "Dibiase – you and Galloway have one week to get Bennett and Slater in a cell or it'll be **both** of you working in forensics."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - Thank you to Tiffyxox for the only review on the last chapter - I told you how I reacted on twitter but I really did well up at your review. Thanks babe! Besides that, please read and review as I'd like a bit of constructive criticism as to how it should go/how I should write. Thank you - now, please read and enjoy.

Love, Kimberly.

* * *

Cody held onto his paper coffee cup and stared up at the large, green fencing which surrounded his new work place. This did nothing to dispel the feeling of unease which had settled in his stomach sometime between finishing breakfast and heading out the door. For the third time since he had arrived, Cody found himself staring at the uneven sign which had once been hung properly against the fencing, out of procedure than any due care for the health and safety rules which were printed on it. The sign, which showed evident signs of rust was not one of cheer but, instead, read "Danger" and warned of "High Voltage". It even went as far as to say 'it is at your own personal risk that you enter these premises" - this part in particular scared Cody who, upon reading it clearly for the first time, promptly dropped his near-full cup. "Shit!" he called out, hastily dropping to his knees in an attempt to catch it, though the majority of the contents spilled out on the way down.

"You coulda just made one in there," a voice said from behind him. It was the voice which Cody had fail to guess it's origin the night before – was he Australian? Southern American? The Georgia native turned to face him – 'him' being a tanned male, not much taller than Cody with a lot of hair which, although short, seemed to cover most of his head and face, a wide smile and two large eyes poking out between the messy hair on his forehead and the scruff adorning his chin. "You must be Cody – Heath told me you'd be starting today. I'm Paul – PJ – nice to meet you." The strongly accented male extended his hand to the new start which was accepted into a firm – though rather wet, thanks to the contents of Cody's spilled coffee – handshake. PJ pushed past Cody, placing a hand on one of the sheets of iron fencing which moved back to act as a door to the construction yard. "You coming in?"

Within ten minutes of being in the yard, PJ – who had assured Cody he was South African and in no way, shape or form Australian – had made Cody a new cup of coffee and showed him around the yard, explaining that the machinery was only dangerous if you were retarded, under the influence or Skip. Who Skip was, Cody didn't know but he made a mental note to avoid him, at least for the first few days... "Your worried aren't you?" PJ said, though it was more of a statement than a question. His eyes cast upwards to the security hut where Heath stared down at the two of them, looking tired and weary. "Its not too hard, you know. The machinery's pretty simple to use, you won't be sent out on any tough jobs for a while yet and as long as you give 100% each day, the bosses'll stay off your back."

"What are they like?" Cody asked, turning to stare at the hut in time to see Heath snap the blinds shut. "Heath and Stu, I mean."

"Heath's okay – takes his work very seriously and if you don't...you may as well be slapping him in the face. No one's ever seen him arrive – he's here from the crack of dawn – and, unless we all go for a drink he doesn't leave til well into the night... " Cody noted the reverence and awe in PJ's voice and rolled his eyes, though this went unnoticed by the South African. "Stu's a bit more relaxed but you cross him...its not just a case of a job you lose, you get me?" Cody swallowed hard when PJ said this for it was the first time that his fears were correct – this was no ordinary construction company. "But it'll be fine – its easier than you think, really. Sometimes its not even construction..." And, almost the second the words had escaped his mouth, the iron fencing that Cody and PJ had come through opened again and Stuart Bennett came into sight.

In his charcoal grey suit, Stu swaggered into the yard and straight over to the two workers, who sat outside the small trailer-like set up where they made coffee and hung their coats. "Paul, where the fuck is Wyndham and Joe?" he bellowed, almost looking right through Cody, something the younger man was almost thankful for. "Its ten to nine and you two are the only two here!"

"Heath's in the office," PJ started but thought it best not to point out the obvious when Stu asked a question. "Wyndham's stuck in traffic – he had to come another way; there were a shit load of police cars down near Sedgewick Street and he didn't wanna be too near to them."

"Smart kid...And Joe?"

"He just finished a job – where do you think he is?" Heath's face appeared at the small window of the hut, the top flap of the glass opened so that he could call down to his partner. "Fucking Church of Our Lady." Stu rolled his eyes but turned back to PJ who was chortling to himself beside Cody who wore an unreadable expression. This pleased Stuart – a poker-face was exactly what someone in their trade needed. Although inside, Cody was panicking about why the hell this Joe character had to pray after every 'job', he showed sheer indifference on the outside.

Stu's eyes raked over the dark haired Comic Book writer, glad that he had chose an appropriate attire – a pair of old jeans and a Lacoste tshirt – and nodded his head in recognition, as though he were only just noticing him. "Alright?" he asked, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket.

"Yeah, thanks," Cody said simply, taking a sip of his coffee. _Feign indifference_, he thought to himself. _This kinda guy can practically smell fear..._ "You?" Stu shrugged his shoulders a little. "So, where do I start?" _Let him think you're eager...You gotta impress this guy..._ From the corner of his eye, he saw PJ smirk, but he did his best to stay focussed on Stu.

"I was gonna start you off with Holy Joe and Otunga but... PJ can show you the ropes," the six foot five man turned to wholly face PJ. "Give him the tour, show him how to work some of that shit over in the back of the yard and then start clearing up the pit – we need to get some orders in for new supplies and you pillocks have left our current stuff in a right state...Can't tell what we need and what we dont..."

"Ok, boss," PJ said, still smirking. "And after that?"

"I might need you to run some errands for me...had some visitors last night that were 'scouting out' the company...I don't like competition..." And with that, the Englishman walked across the spacious yard to the security hut, Cody contemplating what he meant by 'competition'. He stomped up the stairs – though his demeanour seemed anything but angry – before hauling open the door and entering into the hut. "What the fuck is that kid's name?" He asked Heath who began to chuckle. "Spent the whole time wanting to call him Cole like that little arsehole..."

* * *

"Fur fuck's sake, man – Ah spend aw kindsa daft hours tryin' tae get that scumbag Bennett and his wee lap-dogs, Ah get tae sleep at half fuckin' four an' Ah'm back in here at this time cause there's nob'dy tae go tae this stupid crime scene except uniform!" Drew Galloway was mid-rant when Ted left Hunter's office. "Fuckin' pricks – how are you no' goin'?" Drew turned to face Ted, which allowed the Mississippi native to see the dark circles under his eyes and the dishevelled state of his hair.

"I, uh, wasn't aware there was a problem Drew," Ted said simply, Hunter appearing by his side to see what the noise was.

"A woman got attacked doon near the big park. Battered and raped – she's in hospital just now – an' Ah mean, that's shite an' everythin' but ah'm fuckin' shattered!" Drew said, the grip on his red bull can causing his knuckles to go white. "Ah don' know anythin' else but surely some-cunt else can deal wi' it?" He paused to swig from his energy drink. "Ah mean, Ah know you've got the Bennett case like me but where the fuck's Bourne? Where's Michaels, eh? Ah've barely slept an' fuckin' Layla's phonin' meh at half seven in the mornin'! But does anyb'dy think to phone Michaels? Naw! Of course they fuckin' don't"

"Galloway – my office. NOW." Chief of Police Vincent Kennedy McMahon had arrived at the bottom of the hallway, his face bright red and his jaw set, before he threw the swing doors open and stormed through them, Drew following with a swagger and a scowl, leaving everyone – Ted included – confused. Drew was forever kicking off – he always had some sort of gripe when he didn't get a lot of sleep, a complaint when the accused didn't co-operate or a strop when the tuna pasta in the canteen was cold – but Vince never got involved. Drew was the golden boy, the one that people of Hunter's level spent weeks trying to shift from their department, but in Vince's eyes he did no wrong.

"Uh, Hunter," Ted said, once the doors had swung shut again, signalling Drew's departure. "You want me to get on this before I head down to check Otunga and Tarver's alibis?" The long haired boss nodded his head but said nothing, Ted taking this as a signal to go now. "Where did Drew say it was?" he asked, hoping one of his colleagues – who had all popped their heads round office and investigation room doors when Drew had kicked off – would be able to answer.

Officer Kingston face appeared by the door to his left. "Its down near the Sedgwick Street entrance of the Central Park but Ted I really don't think you should go," he said, looking almost pained. "I can do it – Mendes can finish up the paperwork and I'll get on it just now."

"Kofi, man, it's okay – Otunga and Tarver can wait. From the sounds of it there'll be some uniform down there anyway so I'll just be going to the crime scene, checking things out and then...I can go do my own case. It should only set me back an hour or so..."

"No, Ted," Kofi said, much sterner this time. "I _really_ don't think it should be _you_ going."

"Why?" with a half-smirk, Ted added. "You wanting some of the big cases?"

"No, Ted..." the sternness in his voice was gone now and his chocolate eyes seemed almost pitying. "Its...It was Maryse."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Sorry there's no real _drama_ in this one. This chapter is more of a transition one and a new update should be up in the next few days.

* * *

By the time the clock struck one o'clock and the team at Bennett and Slater Constructions had clocked off for lunch, Cody's arms were aching – PJ had worked him hard, helping him shift concrete tiles, haul bags of cement and carry scaffolding infrastructure to the holding bay. Before walking across to the café he had been in the day before, Cody's muscles in his lower back and arms protested as he attempted to put on his jacket. "Man up, Runnels," laughed a large, heavily tattooed man who seemed to dislike wearing a shirt, though PJ repeatedly asked him to. "You'll need to hit the gym a few times before you're up here with the big boys."

"Big being the operative word, ay, Wyndham?" PJ laughed, walking ahead of the rest of them. "I'm starving – you think Nattie will have made more of that potato salad?"

"Nattie?" said Cody, doing his best to keep up with PJ, the only worker he had had any extensive conversation with. "Is that the woman who works in the café?" PJ nodded while Joe Hennig – who had arrived at a little after eleven – assured him that it most certainly was. "She gave me some free pecan pie yesterday..." He mused to himself, still thankful for her generosity the day before.

"Sounds like Nattie, alright," said Joe. "She'd give you her left eye if you asked for it..." Wyndham and David – the only other workers in the yard, that day – nodded solemnly. "Heart of gold, she has. Fucking makes me sick when I think of what those bastards did to her..." Cody wanted to question it, to find out just what had been done to Nattie and by who, but the look of sheer venom in Joe's eyes silenced him.

Pushing the door of the café open, PJ was welcomed by the blonde who had served Cody the day before. "Boys, you'll be glad to know I made an extra pot of potato salad – just for you," she said, wiping her hands on her pink apron before walking around from behind the counter. "Good god, PJ, you're filthy!" She said, dusting off the thick coating of dust from his shoulders. "How come you always seem to end up in such a mess?" She scanned the faces of the other men as they entered, not one of her usual customers half as filthy as PJ. Until she spotted Cody. "Weren't you in here yesterday, sweetheart? Shoulda said you were one of these guys an' I'd have given you a discount!"

"You gave me enough, yesterday, thank you," Cody said, his cheeks slightly red as he remembered counting out his money in front of her before she handed him the coffee for much less than he imagined it cost.

"I like you," she said, laughing. "Polite. Not something I can say for that one." She said, staring at Wyndham who was eyeing up the cream cakes on display. "You touch it, you pay for it, Rotunda."

The lunch hour went in much faster than any other hour of the day and, working their way through countless cups of coffee, the full pot of potato salad (amongst other foods) and an abundance of cream cakes, most of which Wyndham finished off, they were soon full and ready to get back to the yard. "Did Stu say what he wanted you to do, PJ?" asked David as they crossed to the site. "You think its got something to do with what Hennig and Wyndham were doing?"

"Nah, he said something about visitors last night..." A knowing look was shared amongst the men and the topic was dropped suddenly, leaving Cody looking bewildered as they entered the yard once more. "Well, close the gate, Cody!" PJ said, shaking his head. "God, you really are slow...Now you stay here with the guys," the South African spoke slowly, as though to a child. "And I'll go see what Stu wants."

The voices were hushed as PJ approached the door of the hut and, while he knew what it was about, he couldn't help but think that matters were much more grave than he had once anticipated. "We're gonna get the blame for this one, too, Heath..." he heard the hushed English voice from inside. "An' it's the night that DiBiase cunt's round mine, puttin' the fear of God into her..." PJ knocked on the door, knowing he couldn't listen any more. "Come in!" Stu called from inside.

"Ahh, Paul," said Heath, closing over his laptop as PJ entered the hut. "Is somethin' wrong?" The long haired male looked even more stressed and weary than he had done at the window earlier.

"Stu said he wanted me to run a few errands..."

"Oh, right, yeah..." Stu stared at PJ for a moment or two, as though he had quite forgotten just what he had wanted PJ to do. "Change of plans, son. I need you to head to Farrelly's – that attack on Sedgewick Street, you hear about it?"

"Wyndham said he thought it was a car crash but, no, I ain't heard anything. Was it you?"

"See what I mean, Heath?" A look of fear crossed PJ's face. "We're the first to be accused when something like this happens..." Stu turned to face PJ again. "You know that French bird who used to be in 'Silver Street'?" PJ and Heath both stared blankly at the Englishman. "You guys never seen 'Silver Street'? Kat's old lady always used to watch it when me and Kat were over for dinner on a Sunday...Bloody awful! Anyway...she was the blond bird at that car lot we went to last time Paul..."

"The one with the huge tets?"

"I've told you how many times, Peej?" Heath laughed. "Its tits."

"And I've told you its tets – least in South Africa it is..."

"Sure it is," said Heath, laughing. The smile was soon wiped from his face when Stu turned to face him, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Yeah, its her," Stu continued, ignoring anything Heath had said. "Maryse somethin' or other...Anyway, her boyfriend was round mine last night. Him and Galloway - "

"Fucking bastard stormed into my house last night with my mother upstairs!" PJ raged but fell silent after another stern look from Stu.

"Well I fuckin' know that don't I seein' as he was round mine before that – had Kat in a right state. But yeah, DiBiase interviews all of us, then his girlfriend gets attacked first thing the next mornin'? We all know where the finger's getting pointed."

"Ain' that the truth?" said Heath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So we need you to head down to Farrelly's and have a chat with Ste – crazy Irish bastard always knows what's going on in this town... Take the new kid with you, actually."

"Already? Heath, I don't think you -"

"Just take him PJ. He's gonna be cluttering up the yard anyway and Skip's in later. The last thing we need is another injury because of him..."

"And what do I tell him?"

"Tell him that if he's as desperate for money as he claimed he was, he'll keep his eyes open and his mouth shut."

PJ looked at Stu, confused – whenever threats were made, whenever he saw them made, at least, it was always Stu making them; he was the intimidating one, not Heath – but his English boss simply gave a nod, almost too small to see. But PJ saw it and, noticing how atmospheric the air was, left as quickly as possible.

It was a strange journey, walking through town to Farrelly's Bar with someone you barely knew, especially when you had no idea why you were going to said bar in the middle of the day when you were supposed to be on a construction site. "Are you sure Stu said I was to come with you?" Cody asked for the fourth time in what was a very short period of time.

"No," said PJ simply, checking his watch. "Heath did. Now what did I tell you?"

"Eyes open, mouth shut."

"Exactly," a smirk hinted at making an appearance on PJ's handsome face but he reeled it in almost instantly. He wasn't one for smugness and was never known at Bennett and Slater to be rude or in any way dominant. "I'm sorry, man," he said, looking at Cody who, as he had been doing all day, looked confused. "Its hard times..."

"I guess..." Cody shrugged. There wasn't much he could say in response – he didn't know anything about the company he worked for, nor what he was being paid to do but PJ had promised him a three figure sum of money _just_ for the day's work and he couldn't exactly argue with that.

"I guess you worked out its not just construction we do, huh?"

"Yeah I kinda...guessed that when I heard Stu on the phone yesterday," Cody admitted – sure he hadn't known what he was getting himself into, but that was where the suspicions stemmed from. "When he told - Kate, is it ? - to hide the bag under the kids cot..."

"Kak!" PJ said, all colour draining from his face. In all senses and purposes, the bag was his and it should have been at his house. "Do you know if...if she hid it?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure if someone had found...whatever it is he wouldn't be at work today..." This seemed to appease the South African, who nodded and fell into a silent, yet brisk walk beside the former comic book writer.

Farrelly's was a bar in the center of town, almost hidden by the large, flashy nightclubs either side of it. It was small, in size and inside, it shunned the 'modern' idea for a stone and wooden look, which looked most out of place when one considered the décor of the bars which surrounded it. Upon entering through the large, wooden doors, Cody and PJ were hit with a cool blast of air-conditioning and a tall red-haired man stared up at them from behind the bar where he was reading a newspaper. "Alrigh' Pee-Jay?" came the strong Irish brogue. "Did Stu send ya down 'ere?" Cody glanced at PJ, expecting a look of indifference or a furrowed brow but, instead, was met with a hearty laugh.

"Stephen," the South African grinned, strutting towards the bar with Cody hot on his heels. "Can't a guy just bring his friend into the city's best Irish bar for a drink?"

"A regular guy could, aye, but no one o'your lot. Whattar ye wantin'?" The two men took seats facing the pale bartender. "An' non o'yer 'Castle Milk Stout' shite either, Lloyd." Stephen Farrelly raised an eyebrow at the South African who, for as long as he could remember, had ordered a 'Castle Milk Stout' each and every time he entered the bar, knowing full well that Farrelly's did _not_ stock the South African Stout.

"Just a Coors then," PJ said, rolling his eyes. "But you really should stock it, you know? Would increase your profit..."

"Yer a ligh'weight son – two beers an' yer done – an' you're the only one who's ever mention'd it in this pub," Stephen said, opening the bottle of Coors and handing it to PJ. "An' you son?"

"Coors light, please," said Cody, shifting uncomfortably on his bar stool. The bar was almost empty, besides three older men who sat in the back corner, by a faux fire. Cody's eyes scanned the bar two or three times; subconsciously taking in all the exit routes, the seating plan and the faces and clothing of the three men in the back. A tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed out at him: _you'll need to remember it all when you're running from the place or when you're making your statement_ but he quashed the little voice by taking a long sip of his cold beer.

"Ah know why you two are here, mind ye..." said Stephen, folding up the newspaper he had been reading before the two had come in. "An' Ah've got two words for ye...Randy Orton."


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to Emily, who continually spurred me on and Kay, who was a wonderful beta reader x3

* * *

It was just after five o'clock and Stu was late for dinner with his family. He stepped into the yard and walked towards the dimly lit cabin set-up where his workers usually spent their mornings. The security hut was locked up, meaning even Heath had gone home but, as usual, someone had left the light on in the cabin. "Fuckin' twats," Stu muttered to himself. "Don't have a fuckin' clue about bills..." But, as Stu opened the door to turn off the light, he came face to face with Joe Hennig, sitting quietly at the plastic table, reading a book with a dark cover. "Hennig!" Stu exclaimed, startled, as he closed the door behind him, walking towards the sink. "What are you doin' here when everyone's gone home?" The Englishman turned on the cold water tap on and placed his hand under the running liquid, wincing when it hit his skin. The skin on his knuckles was tight, red from impact, the skin split in a few places.

"Mass don't start 'til six, boss," Joe replied, not looking up from his book. "No point heading across town to come all the way back over – figured I'd just lock up for Heath." Stu turned to face the slightly older man after turning the tap off and wrapping his hand in a dish towel. "What happened there?"

"Nothin' for you to worry about Joe," Stu replied taking a seat across from his employee. He unwrapped his hand and examined it – Kat would be asking questions, of course and while part of him wanted to make up some sort of excuse as he had done previously but, staring at the split skin, Stu knew he owed it to her to be honest. "Just had to have a word or two with Brooks." The two exchanged knowing looks before Stu spoke again, "Where's Heath off to anyway?"

"Something about a steak dinner..." Joe said cluelessly, to which Stu replied 'fucking South Africans'. "No, Heath."

"You what?"

"You said 'fucking South Africans' but Heath isn't..."

"No but the person he's with is." Stu said simply. Since PJ's mother had come over from South Africa, Heath had been arguing with the young worker that he could cook a better steak than his mother and, tonight was obviously the night he had a chance to prove himself. _Hope Paul has a strong stomach..._thought Stu, thinking back to the meal Heath had once cooked for him and Kat, leaving Kat unable to taste anything for a week. "What time is it anyway?" He asked, pushing the subject on quickly. He had taken his watch – a twenty-first birthday present from his parents – off before he had met with Brooks and had left it in the car.

"Quarter past five, boss."

Stu cursed – he was already late for his dinner with Kat – and walked across to the door of the hut. "Can't keep the little lady waitin'," he laughed, tensing his hand a few times to keep the blood pumping. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Don' you have a family to go home to?" The Englishman asked, though he knew the answer already.

"My dad died a few years back and my mom moved down to Dallas to live with my sister."

"She wouldn' say no, you know?" A confused look from Joe saw Stu raise an eyebrow. "Nattie."

"I don't know what you're talking 'bout, boss..."

"Sure ya don't...And enough of that boss shit – it's Stu. But, all I'm sayin' is...you need a good shag, Joe..." And with a comical wink, Stu left the hut, chuckling to himself, leaving Joe looking disgusted.

* * *

The brunette smiled up at her husband, her blue eyes sparkling as he kissed her hand. "I thought you were never gonna show up!" she admitted, looking at the ground. "I was ten minutes from calling and leaving abusive voice mails on your phone..."

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Stu laughed. "Pretty sure that's how our first date went..."

"Shouldn't have stood me up then, should you?" Kat replied as they entered the restaurant they had agreed to meet at, the homemaker leaning into her husband. "Or turned up the next day with a broken nose. That was a real dick move..."

"I didn' exactly ask for it, Kat..." Stu glanced at his wife and smiled. It was safe to say he'd gotten lucky with that one – not many men would have been able to pull off what he had. But he had. And nine years later, he was a married father of two. "Table for Bennett?" he said to the who showed them to their table, Kat grinning like a school girl although questions about the night before and about the red, swollen knuckles swam around in her head like dangerous sharks, threatening to bite and ruin her bubble of happiness at any minute.

* * *

Even through the wooden door, Ted could hear the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor from inside. It was stable, he noted, as he turned the cold, metal handle and let himself into the private room his girlfriend was currently in. "Maryse?" he said, looking up at where the beeping was coming from. Under the tight, white, hospital regulation bed sheets lay Maryse, the normally tanned skin on her arms covered in purple hues and scratches, an IV breaking into the skin of her left hand. Her eyes flickered open and she cast a glance at her boyfriend, but purposely closed her eyes again. "Baby..." He closed the door and moved towards the bed, taking in a full review of the fragile woman in the bed. "Baby I'm so..." The words caught in his mouth. Sorry? What had he to be sorry for? Ted reached out and gently took her hand in his, noting how she flinched away from his touch, though she was too weak to pull away, fully.

"Don't touch me..." she said, barely above a whisper, though she opened her eyes and looked into his. Ted swallowed hard as he saw the extent of the damage on her face. Her cheekbone was a dark purple and heavily swollen, her lip was burst and being held together with paper stitches and a large cut or graze, he couldn't be sure which, on her forehead.

"I..." Again, the words caught in his throat – what was he to say to her? The police officer removed his hand from hers and reached to her face, tucking a stray hair away from her bruised face. "I'm here..." The inner voice he had heard all the way to the hospital rose up once again. _Shoulda been there this morning when one of Bennett's guys was raping her, shouldn't you?_ It said, spitting venom into Ted's mind. _It's your fault it happened anyway...They wouldn't have touched her if you hadn't gone snooping round his house last night..._ Ted took a deep breath, doing his best to silence that voice – on the way to the hospital, the sound of 'Natural Born Killer' had done the job but now, in the stuffy hospital room, the only noise was that of the heart monitor and the shallow breaths of Maryse.

The silence continued much longer than Ted would have hoped for, until a single tear found its way down the purple hills and valleys which currently made up his girlfriend's face. "Why me?" she asked, not directly to Ted, but to someone much higher. "What did I do?" Her hands began to shake and her breaths laboured as more tears fell. And, at that point, Ted had to press the red button by the side of her bed to call the nurse to administer some sort of pain killer.

* * *

Kat's back slammed against the wall and, though he tried to put thoughts of them at this sort of time to the back of his mind, Stu was glad the kids were staying over at Kate's friend's house. She looked down at him from her raised position, her eyes darkened over with lust as she dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. The dark haired woman unwrapped an arm from her husbands neck and moved to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling clumsily one-handedly. "Someone's eager," Stu laughed breathily, causing Kat to roll her eyes. "Need a hand?" One large hand cupped her ass, the other moving to the bottom of her back as he moved them into the living room, Kat claiming ownership of his lips as they moved. The tall Englishman stumbled, moving them towards the sofa before collapsing down onto it, pulling Kat into a straddling position.

Once again, Kat found herself staring down at him, only this time she was met with a look of sheer hunger as Stu pulled her towards him, one hand tangling in her hair as their lips met in a bruising kiss. Gentle moans escaped Kat's lips as Stu's hand gripped the back of her thigh, his calloused fingers rough against the flesh he found under her dress. His hands moved upwards, pushing the material of the dress upwards until it pooled at her stomach, Kat's hands moving quickly between them to undo the buttons of his shirt. Giving her bottom a firm squeeze, Stu pulled away from the kiss. "Arms up," he said, though it was more of a command than a request. Duly noting the urgency in his voice, Kat raised her arms and allowed her husband to pull her black dress over her head with little resistance from the material. "Much better," Stu smirked, licking his lips before attacking her neck with a new found ferocity. One hand roughly palming Kat's breast through the lace material of her bra, Stu let out a deep groan as she rolled her hips, pressing herself against his trouser-clad erection.

Kat placed two hands on her husbands chest, pushing him away from her, gaining a confused look from Stu but, rather than explain, the twenty-nine year old pushed the straps of her bra down, her hands reaching back to unhook her bra and expose her breasts, her pink nipples standing proud against her pale skin. Stu leaned forward, as though planning to resume his assault on her neck but his wife pouted and shook her head, a devilish spark dancing in her eyes. Her hands reached between them once more and, deftly, skilfully, she undid his belt buckle and made quick work of the zip on his suit trousers. His hand resuming its place in her hair, Stu pulled her towards him once more, their lips crashing together again, kissing passionately as their tongues met once more. Kat mewled into the kiss, her hand deliberately slow as it snaked its way under the material of his trousers, stroking him gently through his briefs. And then her hand was gone. Stu's eyes widened slightly as his wife ran her tongue over her kiss-swollen lips – was it his birthday? Kat was not one to willingly opt into oral sex and, swallowing hard, Stu thanked his lucky stars that she was so keen. She wriggled off him tugging his trousers and briefs down his thighs as she settled in a kneeling position in front of him.

The dark haired woman smirked up at her husband, flicking her hair over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving his as she kept him waiting, his erection pulsing in anticipation. "Fucks sake, Kat," he panted. "Hurry up!" For a second, she considered stopping then and there but the look of sheer lust and desire in his eyes told her she'd be more than rewarded if she went along with it. Gripping the base with one hand, Kat leaned forward and ran her tongue slowly over the head, tasting the salty pre-cum situated there. "Oh fuck," Stu exhaled, his head rolling back as he fought the urge to thrust at her. Tentatively, her hand began to stroke him as her mouth encapsulated the head, sucking gently as she took him further into her mouth, the laboured breaths from her husband spurring her on.

Her hand and mouth working him simultaneously had Stu in ecstasy, one hand on the back of her head as he gently urged her on. He had forgotten how good she was, how close she could have him in mere seconds and, as her free hand came to fondle his balls, he was damn near sure he wouldn't last much longer. He could feel her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his penis, causing him to groan loudly. But the groan went almost unnoticed by Kat thanks to the loud banging noise which came from outside the room.

Releasing him from her mouth with a wet pop, Kat's eyes full of fear as she mouthed, "What's that?"

"Doesn' matter darlin' just..." he motioned at her to continue what she was doing but the housewife looked terrified. "It was nothin'! Now, where were we?" She paused, listening for another bang, before she returned to the task at hand, Stu's erection almost quivering at her, willing her to return to it. When no sound came, beside the heavy breathing coming from her husband, Kat nodded, once more easing him into her mouth, taking him deeper as her hand returned to his shaft, working the areas her mouth couldn't meet. She was finally working in a rhythm, Stu now incapable of words save for the odd 'Fuck' and 'That's it, Kat' amongst pants, when the banging started up again, causing Kat to start, her teeth sinking into Stu a little more than was pleasurable, causing him to cry out with a deafening roar.

"We know yer in there Bennett – Ah kin hear ye. Get yer arse oot here NOW," Officer Galloway's voice echoed through the house as the banging continued, Kat now identifying it as him kicking the door. She looked from her husband who was near tears, staring down at his slowly wilting erection.

"Stu..."

"I heard..." he shuddered, running a thumb over his manhood and painfully forcing himself back into his trousers. He pulled his shirt closed again, hastily pulling at his zipper as Kat grabbed for her dress, her face ashen white. "I'm fuckin' comin' – hold your horses." He winced as he walked, having not adjusted himself properly, the pain of the teeth marks coursing through his body.

Kat had just finished pulling the dress over her breasts, her discarded bra no where to be found, when the front door was hauled open. "What do you want?"

"Mr Bennett, Ah've got a warrant for yer arrest – ye do not have to say any'hin but it may harm yer defense if you do not mention, when questioned, somethin' which ye later rely on in court," Drew Galloway's words resonated in Kat's ears and she ran to the door in time to see Stu's hands placed in handcuffs.

"What am I being arrested for? Huh? What've I done this time?"

"You're being arrested for the assault and rape of one Maryse Ouellet," said the one officer Kat was not familiar with.

"WHAT?" both Stu and Kat replied. Stu's hands shook and he swallowed hard.

"Ye heard fine well, Bennett, now get in the fuckin' car," Drew said, nudging the taller man out of the door. Kat began to sob, calling Stu's name and shaking her head fervently as he was led to the police car, saying nothing but mouthing the words 'I love you' as his head was pushed down in an effort to get him inside the vehicle. And, for the first time in nine years, Kat saw her husband cry.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to Kay, Claudia, Tiff and Emily for your kind reviews. They mean so so much to me!

Loads of love,

Kimberly xo

* * *

The tall, suited man stood at the end of the gravelly path, on the opposite side of the gate from the manor-esque home. He looked around, making sure nothing but the security camera could see him before pressing the button on the intercom system and waiting for an answer. "I'm uh, here to see Randy," he said, his strong accent loud against the deathly still surrounding him. Orton's home stood statuesque amongst leafy greens, a good ten minute drive from the suburbs of town and, though the man knew there was no one around, he couldn't help but double check. "I, uh, have an appointment with him."

There was a rustling on the other side of the intercom before a posh, English voice came across, "Please step back from the gate," the man's voice said through the speaker, causing the visitor to stare at the security camera. "Mr Orton will see you now." And, as the voice rang off, the gates moved slowly, parting just enough to allow the visitor entry to the grounds. Pulling his suit jacket tighter, he made his way up the gravelly path to the sandstone building ahead of him, kicking stones up with his shiny black shoes and pulling the head from a rose, though he soon regretted this when he remembered the security camera.

Before he could even reach the front step, the large doors were hauled open, with a well dressed man with greying hair waiting for him. "Good evening," he said, the voice a less mechanical version of the one he had just heard. "You must be Mr. Hager?" Jacob nodded, but said nothing. "Well, do come in, it's awfully chilly out here." Jacob raised an eyebrow, wondering if the accent were real or not but, again, he said nothing and instead, entered the house, William closing the door behind them. It was the first time he'd ever been inside the Orton home and he had to admit, he was overwhelmed – not even Hunter or Vince had a house like this. He stood gawping at the large, stone staircase, the marble floor and the ridiculously high ceilings. "Do you want to keep Mr Orton waiting?" William stood holding the door open, glaring in Jacob's direction.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, almost blushing at his prominent lisp as he made his way through the door William held open. "Thank you, William." He said hastily, doing his best to keep on the servant – _that's the right word to call him, right?_ He thought to himself – on his good side.

"Ah, Jake," came a voice from inside as a tall, bald man strode towards him, his hand extended. Dressed in jeans and a tight grey t-shirt, Randy Orton seemed to be enjoying his day off, something which unnerved Jacob. How did a guy like Randy Orton relax? Something told him it would involve a lot of violence anyway...

"You've never invited me to your home before..." Jacob said nervously as Randy shook his hand, his eyes scanning around the room, taking in its grandeur. Randy Orton had made it and he wanted to make sure everyone knew it – the cabinet behind his desk held many expensive looking trinkets and trophies while his walls boasted a painting Jacob had once seen in an art gallery during a trip in high school, side by side with a picture of the Orton family, Randy's wife and daughter beaming down at them from their place inside the frame.

"Never had a reason to," Randy laughed easily before returning to the chair behind his desk. "This is the, ah, study I guess you could call it...take a seat." As Jacob shifted towards a seat facing Randy, the older man continued. "I don't suppose you'll be working on the Bennett and Slater case will you? I mean, no dead bodies...there's not much for you to do, huh?"

"No..." Jacob paused before shrugging. "Besides a hit and run last week I ain't had anything to work on..."

"Oh." Randy replied, his lips making a perfect O-shape. "Guess we better make this quick then...you got the money?"

"They arrested Bennett last night," Jacob blurted out, rubbing his hands together nervously. He had always feared Bennett, much more than he ever feared Randy but with him in a cell and the chance of some free – or at least cut price – quality blow, Jacob felt his mouth move of its own accord. "For the rape on Sedgewick Street." Randy raised an eyebrow – rape wasn't Bennett's style. Hell, women weren't Bennett's style! He was respectful in that aspect – women and children were never his choice of victim, something that even Randy himself couldn't say. "It was DiBiase's girlfriend...him and Galloway raided Bennett's place the night before..."

"Doesn't seem like Bennett..." Randy mused. "He's more of a bullet to the spleen kinda guy...The kinda guy that still opens doors for women and shit...Must be an English thing..." Jacob wanted to inform him that chivalry was not a country-specific bout of insanity but the elder man's hand was dancing enticingly towards his top drawer where Jacob presumed his reward lay. And his presumption was right, as Randy opened the drawer just enough to snake his hand inside, producing a small bag of powder. "Line?" And, for the next few moments, beside the sound of a credit card against the back of a book, the room fell silent, Jacob breaking said silence with a loud snorting noise, a noise which had been heard many a time by both men.

"You got anything to do with it?" Jacob asked, screwing his eyes up furiously and swiping at his nose with his thumb as his nostrils burned.

Randy scoffed. "Now, tell me...What makes you think I'd tell you if I did?"

"I just thought, you know, this being off record and all..." Jacob's face flushed as Randy stared at him intently.

"Nothing in this business is off record, Hager."

* * *

The clock had just struck one when Heath Slater left the security hut he and Stu called an office and walked down to where three of his employees were. PJ, Cody and Joe had been stock taking while Wyndham, David and Skip had been sent to the middle of nowhere to fix a roof, the rest of the staff off on business Cody knew nothing about. "You guys can take a break if you want," said Heath in his slow, southern drawl. "Actually...Just take the rest of the day off – I think I'm just gonna shut up early today..." The strawberry blonde man had been subdued all morning, barely glancing up from the phone he waited beside and he was met with three sets of bewildered eyes. "You'll still get paid for the full day..." Cody relaxed, but PJ and Joe stared on – Heath never closed early. Stu had been known to shut up the yard early on occasion - the most recent being the birth of his son – but, ultimately, the boys rarely got out of the yard on time never mind early. All about keeping up appearances, Heath always said...

"Heath?" PJ spoke up, moving from behind a huge pile of cement blocks which came up to his nose. "Heath, where is Stu?"

"He..." Heath cast a suspicious glance at Cody but continued nonetheless. "He was arrested last night." There was an air of formality from Heath who wanted nothing more than to say 'those bastards took him PJ, they terrified Kat and they took him to the cells' but he continued with his formal pretence.

"What for, boss?" Joe asked, pushing a cement mixer into the centre of the yard.

Heath swallowed hard before tugging at his shirt collar nervously. "The rape on Sedgewick Street." Cody and Joe stared at Heath blankly while PJ let out an angry Afrikaans outburst.

"What the fuck, Heath? Who do they think they are? Of all the things they could pull him for they take him for that?" The South African's face was almost puce with anger. "Stu? A rapist? They know as well as we do he never did it..." Heath nodded solemnly and even Joe dipped his head in a sort of reverence.

"Has he been charged?" Cody asked and Heath's head snapped towards the youngest member of staff. "They can't hold him for more than twenty four hours if they don't have any proof..."

"Which they don't..." Heath spoke, more to himself than to any of his employees. He took a deep breath before rummaging in his pocket and producing a few notes. "You go head on down to Farrelly's and I'll see if Kat needs anything or if she's heard anything or..." He exhaled slowly, his mind racing as he thought of all the things Stu would be getting asked about; all the things they'd done in the past, all the things they could have been – and should have been – arrested for at the time. "Just...yeah...I'll get you at Farrelly's in about an hour."

* * *

"Where were you at seven forty five yesterday morning, Mr Bennett?" Hunter was in full swing as, for the second time in less than twelve hours, Stu was asked the same set of questions.

"The same bloody place I was when you bastards grabbed me," he said, his lip turned up in a snarl. "At home. With my wife. And my kids."

"And do you have any witnesses who can confirm this?"

Stu rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his once perfectly gelled hair. "My wife. And my kids." He repeated, despairing at the stupidity of the police officer. "But if you think you're gonna haul my Elizabeth in here and start askin' her questions, you've got another thing coming..."

Stu's words seemed to bounce off of Hunter who continued at his slow, laborious pace. "And these are your only forms of an alibi?"

Stu placed his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. He smelled of stale cologne and sweat and his hair was sticking up in odd directions, his curls much in need of a handful of gel. "No...I was eating breakfast with them...we were eating breakfast and getting Elizabeth ready for school and then I went to work..."

"And what time did you get to work?" Hunter asked, his eyes never leaving the large man in front of him.

"I don't know...maybe quarter past nine? PJ was already there with that new kid..."

"It took you two and a half hours to get to work?"

"No. I left at half past eight and got to work for quarter past nine...I got a hot dog off one of them stupid stands..."

"I thought you ate breakfast with your family?" Hunter raised an eyebrow as, once again, Stu let out a wail of despair.

"Have you fuckin' seen the size of me? You really think a few cups of coffee and a slice of toast is gonna sustain me?" Hunter chuckled silently to himself.

"So besides your wife and this mystery hot dog seller who, no doubt, is never in the same place twice, you have no witnesses?"

"Go to the house across the street – the Guerrero family – they have this big fuckin' camera outside their house, stares right into our place...That'd show you when I left and when I didn't and...I wasn't out the fuckin' house before half eight!" Stu's voice was raised now and he thumped his fist against the table.

"Now, now, Mr Bennett, no need to get angry..." Stu hissed up at the man in charge, glaring up at him and muttering obscenities in his thick, English accent. "Interview suspended at thirteen minutes past one, Korklan please take Mr Bennett back to his cell."

"Am I getting out?" Hunter didn't answer as the much smaller Officer Bourne opened the door and escorted Stu out of the room. "Am I getting out?" He repeated, his voice cracking. He was _not_ going to cry in front of Hunter – he was still cursing himself for crying in front of Galloway, though, as he had told the Scotsman, that was due to personal injury. As Korklan escorted him back down to the holding cell, Stu stopped and, looking down at the man who stood almost a foot smaller than him he repeated, for the last time, "Am I getting out?"

Korklan shifted his weight from one foot to the other and adjusted his glasses, looking uncomfortable as he tried to think of what to say. "Well," he started, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead under the scrutiny of the Englishman's gaze. "They'll go and check out these cameras and...if you're right...you're gone."

"And then what?" said Stu, his shoulders still slumped forward, though there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes now. "You arrest all my employees, brand us all rapists and, when we prove you wrong...what happens?"

Korklan looked away and placed a hand of Stu's lower back, ushering him forward, into the cell.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for how long it took me to update. Its not the best chapter but, you know what, I'm happy with it - FINALLY._

_Kim xx_

* * *

The small lamp dangling from the kitchen-come-communal hut gave off an eerie glow, casting dark shadows against the handsome man at the table's face and the constant drip of the tap, he noted, would normally have annoyed him but tonight – or rather, this morning – it seemed almost soothing. He was usually glad he didn't spend much time in here thanks to the slight smell of burnt toast which always seemed to linger in the air but again, even the rancid smell of PJ's marmite couldnt bother him tonight.

Heath flipped a coin into the air, catching it again and covering it with his other hand, though he did not glance to see which side it had landed on but, instead, repeated the motion. The out come didn't matter; it was all being done subconsciously – the listening to the tap, the flipping of the coin, the clicking noise he was making with his tongue. His mind was occupied, not by the horror which he knew to be closing in, but by one man and one man only : Randy Orton.

* * *

It had been little over three hours since Stuart Bennett had been released from the police station; inconclusive evidence and a pending investigation into the CCTV footage from the Guerrero household meant that he would be headed home until they could bring him in, once more, for "thorough questioning". He knew what would happen now – it would be Heath who suffered the 'thorough questioning' next, much like Korklan had hinted at and he had called his partner to let him know before settling into bed with his wife, insomnia driving him to stare blindly out of the window in the general direction of Chavo Guerrero's house.

As was to be expected, Heath had been calm. Even when Stuart had told him what he had heard upon leaving the station, his business partner's voice remained unchanged as he explained that neither Hager nor Orton would see through the night. And so, here they were, both men keeping out of trouble - Heath awaiting his arrest while Stuart waited for those final texts to come.

The tall Englishman untangled his body from his wife, who woke almost instantly. "What's going on?" she asked sleepily, staring up at him through sleep filled eyes.

Stu forced a smile in her direction before leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Nothin', gorgeous. Go back to sleep – I'm just going for a slash."

"No you're not."

Stu did his best to chuckle at Kat's matter of fact tone of his voice. "You wanna watch?" He asked, hoping to make her laugh but the smile on his face wasn't mirrored on Kat's.

"Something's happening tonight, isn't it?" Stu swallowed – she was so smart, always had been and it often amazed him how he had managed to hoodwink her for so long... "Don't lie to me, Stuart. I heard you on the phone to Heath. Who is Jacob? And this Orton...what's he done? You seemed so angry..." Stuart sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight and he reached out, placing a hand on her side.

"Please Kat, don't make this any more difficult than it already is..." She turned to face him, her pleading eyes bore into his green ones, causing him to look away, unable to hold her gaze. "I'll explain in the morning, I promise..."

"You said that two nights ago and I'm still none the wiser." Kat pushed his hand from her side, glaring at her husband.

"Kate..."

"Don't 'Kate' me! I've been terrified Stuart – the past 24 hours have been absolute hell for me and you think you can just swan back in, act all jumpy, check your blackberry every five minutes and expect me not to ask questions. No, Stu! Its _not _going to be like that!" She was sitting up now, her eyes fraught with fear as tears threatened to fall. "Stuart, please – you _can't_ do this to me!"

Stuart reached for her hand, which was pulled from his grasp. "I love you, Kat but I don't think you'll love _me_ if I tell you what I've done..." Stu's voice was quiet as he did his best to meet his wife's gaze but, just as they had done before, her eyes accused him and frightened him, causing him to look away.

"I moved fucking continent to be with you, Stuart. I left everything behind to be with you. Is that not love?" She waited for him to reply, but no response came. "I dont care what you've done – you're still my husband. Or at least, you were. I don't know who you are tonight..."

A choking noise alerted Stu that Kat was crying and he did his best to look at her. "Kat please...don't cry..." He had never been good with words – that was her thing – and he found himself unable to console her. "I love you..."

"Then why are you doing this to me? There's not supposed to be secrets in a marriage, Stu. None. And apparently, our whole relationship's been based on one..."

"Not our whole relationship. Just...just my job..."

"Just that whole part where, every morning you kiss me goodbye and let me think you're going out to fix roads or build walls or whatever the hell it is construction workers do...Stop shutting me out, Stu. Just this one time – just once – be honest. What the hell have you done?" She wrung her hands together in an attempt to stop them shaking as Stu swallowed hard.

"We sell drugs." Three words which seemed to chill Kat to the bone. "We sell drugs, we loan money, we "get rid" of people, we offer protection, we solve problems. And we do general construction work...you know, maintenance on buildings, building conservatories...We're jacks of all trades I guess..." Again, there was a weak laugh from the Englishman.

"What do you mean 'get rid of'? Who do you get rid of? How do you get rid of them?" Kat swallowed. Her voice was strained, as though she were forcing herself to speak, to say something – anything – just to allow her time to rationalise what she was thinking.

"Remember Nash?" Stuart asked, finally managing to take her hand in his without any resistance. Her thin hand shook as she nodded. "He owed us fifteen thousand dollars. It wasnt much – just enough to tide over a little gambling problem. Couldn't pay it back and when Skip warned him what would happen...He ran to Orton. In exchange for Orton paying his debts he told him a few...trade secrets I guess you could call them. PJ put a single bullet through the back of his head. No questions asked." It was the cold, detached voice which Stu used that struck Kat. That wasn't the voice he used when he told her he loved her, when he read the kids a bed time story, when he called back home to wish his mother a happy birthday, when they made love... It wasn't Stu. It was someone unrecognisable. It wasn't her husband. Her husband wasn't this...this blasé killer who stood in front of her. "But Kat it was all for us...I could never give you – give us – the things we have if it wasn't for my job...I just wanted you to have the best..." _There he is..._ thought Kat, her face blank as she stared at her husband. _That's the man you love...the one who'll do anything to make you happy...anything..._

Her head began to hurt as she wondered just which Stuart she would see next. "Ok." She said simply, barely audible over Stuart's deep breathing.

"Ok? Kat...what's that supposed to mean? What's ok?"

"I don't know..." Her voice was emotionless as she sank back into the bed. "I honestly don't know, Stuart. But I love you. And I just have to accept that."

"And..."

"And you're going to do whatever it is you have planned tonight regardless of what I think and regardless of what I say so instead of wasting my breath I'm going to lie here and stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep..." Stu stared at his wife, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling, her eyes closed but made no attempt to move. "Go, Stuart. Just go..."

"But..."

"GO." She never raised her voice – perhaps it would have been better if she had – but there was a finality in her voice which told Stu not to push it and, as he moved towards the bedroom door, his phone signalled a text message.

It was done.

* * *

Cody held both hands together in his lap, his eyes never leaving them and his mind never leaving the wad of money in his back pocket. That hadn't been part of the plan – not yet anyway – but PJ had insisted..."So if anyone asks, where were we?" PJ asked for the second time since they'd left Hager's apartment. The South African looked comfortable in the drivers seat, the seat reclined as one hand directed the steering wheel, the other texting on his iPhone.

"Emerald Downs Racecourse," Cody replied, barely recognising his own voice. He wasn't lying – they _had_ gone to Emerald Downs Racecourse, placed a hefty amount of Heath's money on a variety of horses to ensure they were well remembered then left, heading straight to 135 Baird Avenue, a tower block where, they had been informed, one Jacob Hager lived.

"Right...and that's where you got the money. Now text Beth and tell her you have a surprise for her." PJ seemed so calm as they pulled up at a set of traffic lights. "If we get arrested they'll look through your cell and your texts. I've already text Stu saying that his horse had won and text Heath and Skip to say they missed a good night..."

Cody nodded, retrieving his blackberry from his pocket to see Beth had text him, telling him to enjoy his night and not spend too much. Quickly, he tapped out a message to her, telling her that he had a surprise for her and that he would be home soon. "So what now?"

"Now we go home and we go to sleep and then we go to work tomorrow. Just like normal." Cody nodded, though he wasnt aware of what he was doing. He was shocked at how well he had taken it, really. He had at least expected to vomit. "It'll hit you tomorrow...Or maybe the next time."

"Next time?"

"You didnt think this was a one off, did you?" PJ chuckled to himself as the lights changed to green, the car surging forward. Cody swallowed but didn't acknowledge the question. "We can go for a pint before you go home if you want? Settle your nerves..."

"Not nervous...That's the thing..."

"Like I said, it'll hit you soon enough...Now, is it a left here onto your street?"

* * *

The front door had been no problem - they had slipped in just after a lusty couple, too wrapped up in each other to notice that they hadn't closed the door properly or that two men had followed them into the building. Cody wondered what would have happened had the couple not been there to let them in but there was no time to think on this as PJ marched up the stairs to the second floor, scouting out the door marked "Hager" and demanding Cody follow him.

Cody had expected a run-down flat with the name plate hanging off the door, imagining this Hager fellow to be a common thief or some crack head but he was met with a clean, wooden door, the brass handle and nameplate shining with polish. There was a well watered plant outside the door and a welcome mat on the floor. Cody frowned, _who the hell is this guy?_ He wondered, watching as PJ put his hand in his pocket, the former comic-book writer knowing to follow suit. _I thought he was some coke fiend who pissed Heath off..._

"You ready?" PJ asked, dragging his eyes over the younger man, to which Cody nodded. His stomach flipped and he swallowed hard. _Think of the money...This alone will have the push chair and the crib bought...And we'll still have some left over for Beth... _"Lets go." Cody waited for PJ to kick the door in – it seemed likely in this sort of situation – but instead, he leaned forward and calmly turned the handle, letting them into the apartment. PJ entered first, the hand in his pocket closed around the gun inside and, moving as slowly as was possible, produced the firearm. Cody was slow in doing the same but, by the time they had made it down the hallway towards the living room he, too, was holding a gun in his hand.

The sitting room was in near darkness though there was an eerie glow coming from the silenced television. Two glasses sat on a table in front of the sofa, Cody's eye for detail noticing the slick of lipstick on one of them and, from the bathroom, they could hear the shower running but this was ignored and they continued down the hallway, to where the master bedroom was. Loud music was playing from the bedroom, some sort of gangsta rap that neither Cody nor PJ appreciated and Cody relaxed a little. _This is too easy..._

They stopped just outside the bedroom door which lay slightly ajar and listened carefully; there was a heavy bassline playing in the song as well as gun shots and sirens playing in the background. PJ stood, his lips moving silently in an Afrikaan prayer before pushing the door open. It was done in a matter of seconds, a bang _just_ louder than the music Hager was blasting and, while Cody stood at the door of the bedroom, PJ grabbed something from the bedside table before rushing out of the room, pushing Cody towards the front door. "Lets go!" he commanded in a hushed voice. "MOVE!" They moved as quickly – and as quietly – as possible, slipping out the door and straight back down the stairs and out the front door.

Once in the car, the two breathed a sigh of relief. "Is he dead?" Cody asked, calmly.

"He is." PJ adjusted his seatbelt, fastening it before turning to Cody and handing him a wad of cash - mostly fifties and a few hundred dollar bills. "Take this. Its no use to him anymore..."

"But...but..."

"Take it. Its a perk of the job..." PJ swallowed. "And a bit of a cover up...looks like a robbery, you know?" Cody nodded. "Buy your girl something nice. She deserves it. Or she will, considering what you're gonna be doing in the future..."


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you all for waiting for the new chapter! So, no waffling : here it is.

Kim xo

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table, Beth rubbed her eyes sleepily. It was long since the clock had struck three and she was struggling to keep her eyes open while she waited for Cody to come home. The blonde jumped slightly as she heard a car door slam outside the window, her eyes snapping open. Seconds later and there was a rattle at the door as a key was turned and the door opened. Beth waited patiently as her fiancé entered the house, closed the door and – what seemed to take forever – locked the door and set the alarm. "Didn't think you'd actually have stayed up..." Cody smiled as he entered the kitchen. "Thought I'd have to come and wake you up for the _big surprise_..." He laughed to himself as he leaned down to kiss Beth's cheek. The familiar smell of liquor from his breath was absent, she noted, or at least covered by the overwhelming stench of nicotine.

"You said you'd given up..." She chastised – she should have been annoyed really but the smile on his handsome face stopped any form of anger that could have been forming. "So what's this surprise?" Cody smirked, putting his hands in his pockets, scooping out the wad of money he had stored in his back pocket as well as the thirty seven dollars and twelve cents that had been in his pocket prior to his 'business'. "What the...? Cody...Cody how did you get this?" Beth picked up the wad of money, flicking through the notes in an attempt to count but, wide eyed, she struggled to keep count. "How much is here?"

"Two thousand, three hundred and thirty seven dollars, twelve cents. And a button. I'll need you to sew that back on my jacket, actually..." he laughed, removing the button from the table.

"How did you get this Cody?"

"I, uh..." the smile left his face and he stared at the table. "I kinda did something stupid..." He scratched his forehead before looking up at her. "I know, what with everything that went down with my dad I shouldn't have but...Stu has a horse. A racehorse and he told us it was a sure-fire win..." Beth closed her eyes, placing the money back down on the table.

"How much?"

"It was only forty dollars but, you know...Dad..."

Beth smiled before leaning forward to kiss her fiancé, her hand cupping his face as she pulled away. "You're nothing like your dad, Cody," she said simply, grabbing another peck on his lips before moving away. "You bet forty bucks that you could afford to bet. You were celebrating your new job and..." She picked up a few fifty dollar bills and smiled down at them. "And you came up trumps..."

Cody grinned back at her. _PJ was right,_ he thought to himself. _This is easier than it seems..._ "You can get that stroller you saw in the store last month...the big chrome one..." Beth's eyes lit up – over a month ago she had spotted a stroller in the mall, a beautiful chrome number perfect for a new born baby but, as she had expected, it had been well out of their price range. "I mean if you get it from this money...we'll still have enough for the crib..." He paused, as though he were calculating the prices mentally. "And still have enough to treat yourself." He took hand in his, removing the money from her grasp. "I love you, Beth."

Beth smiled, doe-eyed, "This job really is the best thing that's ever happened to us..." she said, squeezing his hand gently.

* * *

"Righ' Slater," Officer Galloway said, smirking across the table at the strawberry blonde man facing him. "Or should Ah call ye Sebastian?" Heath rolled his eyes at the silly name he had once used. "Tha's wit they called ye when ye were tearin' up Illinois, innit? Sebastian Slater?"

"You must be thinking of someone else," Heath said, shrugging his shoulders a little. He had been prepared for all of this, knew what was coming and had decided to make it all that bit more difficult for Galloway during the interview. "I don't know any Sebastian's...Sounds French though, huh? Maybe my dad had an affair with a Frog..."

"Yer no doin' yerself any favours by bein' a smart-mouth 'ats fer sure..." Drew's top lip drew up in a snarl. "Have ta say yer partner wis _much_ more co-operative...Started tellin' us aw yer dirty secrets..."

"I don't have any dirty secrets, Officer. Whatever would give you that impression?" Heath's low Southern drawl irked Galloway and he found himself grimacing at his speech. "Now I don't know why I'm here so if we could cut to the chase..."

Heath leaned back, swinging the chair onto its back legs, his hands clasped behind his head as he smiled in Galloway and Korklan's direction. The two cast sideways glances; this was going to be much more difficult than Hunter's interviews with Bennett.

* * *

"You could always ask the guys and their wives over for dinner sometime," said Beth as she smiled into the mirror, using a floral hair slide to hold back her bangs. "We've never had a dinner party...It would be so exciting..." Cody laughed to himself as he pulled on his pale purple Lacoste shirt, the belt holding up his jeans still loose. "Don't you think it would be fun? And I'd get to meet your work mates...We won't have much time to socialise once baby Bradley's here..."

"First of all, I've already told you we're not calling the baby after some actor you've taken a liking to... And secondly, I barely know these guys. I've kinda been flung into the deep end and I don't really know what's going on..."

"You know them enough to go to Horse Racing with them..." Beth pouted at her fiancé. "I just want to meet them..."

"You will. Soon enough. Just...not right now. The bosses ain't exactly having a good time right now...Problems with Stu's Visa or something..." Cody frowned as he leaned down to adjust his belt buckle. It was far too easy to lie about these things, he noted and he swallowed before looking back at the pretty blonde in front of him. "But I'll say to the guys if they wanna come over for dinner...They're more than welcome. Now, where's my black shoes?"

He had never been a good liar; even at school he'd struggled to give a credible excuse as to why his homework was late. Yet here he was, the words practically were practically spilling from his lips. _Why is this so easy?_ He wondered as Beth handed him his shoes. _I've never lied to her in my life and now..._ He paused, scoffing at himself which he managed to disguise as a cough, to save any strange looks from Beth. _I helped murder a man and yet my biggest qualm is about lying to Beth..God my conscience is fucked..._

After he finished dressing, the former comic book writer kissed his fiancée goodbye and left the house, heading towards work. _So that's two thousand, three hundred from last night...I get paid at the end of the month plus that little extra for last night...And going to Farrelly's too..._ Cody smiled as he stepped out onto the road. Things were finally looking up, money wise and he had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. "Excuse me?" said a man of around his height with short blonde hair, causing Cody to stop in his tracks. "Excuse me? You're Cody, aren't you?" The man, who wore a pale grey suit at least two sizes too big for him, had an intense look about him, though he was repeatedly wringing his hands, showing his nervousness.

"Who's asking?" Cody replied, remembering Stu's tone when he had gone to get a job and doing his best to mimic it.

"William Reso," the hand wringing continued as Cody began walking again.

"Sorry, man, I don't know any William Resos..."

"But you know a Jacob Hager, don't you?"

Cody swallowed hard but continued to walk, his head held high as he looked over his shoulder at the man he now knew as William. "Never heard of him, man. You must have the wrong guy..." Shrugging it off, Cody continued his walk down the long street, hoping and praying to God that this 'William' didn't shoot him, for this seemed very likely to Cody considering his back was turned.

"I'll let my boss know that..." Called William after him, chilling Cody to the bone.

* * *

"And he didn't say who his boss was?" Stu stared intently at Cody who shook his head. "No hints at all?"

"None. He asked if I was Cody then told me his name. I said I didn't know him and he told me I knew a Jacob Hager..." Stuart nodded calmly, though things had far from gone to plan the previous night - Orton hadn't been home and Otunga had just about escaped being arrested for breaking and entering – but at least one half of the job was done. "Stu...if you don't mind me asking...what did Hager do?"

"Hager had an expensive habit. He'd buy off us then get money from Orton to pay us back and vice versa. We always knew what was happening. He's a pathologist...Or he was," Stu chuckled, his top lip curling into a half-smile. "But when I was leaving the police station yesterday I heard him on the phone to Orton telling him how he was 'just checking in with the Bennett case'...I've killed men for less, Runnels. If there's one thing you never do it's double cross me. And that's exactly what Hager was doing. Using his occupation as a way to get notes on my case, letting Orton know where I was, how long I'd be there..." Stu paused. He was telling a rookie far too much. "But like I said, he's done with. And this Reso...I've never heard of him. Probably Orton's equivalent of you..." Cody frowned until Stu explained. "A rookie who'd do anything for money...someone who knows that if they keep their company on side, they'll be rewarded with more than cash and if they double cross their boss, they'll wind up in a river, having never seen their son or daughter." Cody felt clammy as he rubbed his hands on his dark jeans, looking uncomfortable. Stu revelled in this, staring down the younger man until he let out a bellowing laugh which echoed around the hut. "I'm only pulling your leg, mate. I'm sure PJ explained it all to you, anyway. You know the drill, I'm sure...Now, let me square you up for last night."

Cody laughed nervously at his boss, still not one hundred percent sure the Englishman was joking. "About last night..."

"Yes?" Stu stopped, his hands pausing halfway through counting a stack of notes. _He's bottling it. Just like I knew he would...Told Heath he was a waste of space..._

"If you ever need anything like that done again or...or even just a driver...you know...just hook me up with a ride and...and I'm your man..." Cody swallowed as Stu extended his empty hand.

"Welcome to the family, son." Stu grinned as Cody shook his hand, the younger man almost feeling the tongues of fire that surrounded their handshake for he was certain, at that moment, he had just sold his soul to the devil.

* * *

Maryse Ouellet lay flat across her plus red sofa, her long, blonde hair pulled into a loose braid either side of her bruised face. Since being discharged from hospital at nine thirty that morning, she had done nothing but 'relax' which basically entailed her lying on the sofa, pretending to sleep while Ted clucked around her behaving like a mother hen. Seven hours later and she was still on the sofa, Ted peering over his laptop at the dining table, calling out holiday ideas every couple of minutes. "What about Cannes?" he called as, once again, the Quebec-born actress closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. "Its only nine hundred dollars for a week...Flights leave the fourth of May. How about that, 'Ryse?"

In the past few days it was safe to say that Maryse had grown to hate her boyfriend. Since being hospitalised he had constantly been around; faffing, touching her, asking her if she was okay. No. She wasn't. And she never would be. The blonde sighed softly before lazily opening her eyes, "I don't think I want to go to Cannes..."

"Why? Isn't that where the film festival is held? Wouldn't you wanna go to the film festival?" His Southern charm sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Maryse, every time he spoke, the blonde wincing in pain. "Are you alright, babe? You don't need any more painkillers do you? I don't think you're supposed to take any more for another hour or so..." And then he was by her side, his hand coming to rest on her stomach and, though his fingertips were no heavier than a butterfly's wing on her skin, she flinched. "Where does it hurt?" Maryse let out a groan of frustration but, before Ted could question any more, she was speaking in rapid French, her boyfriend's eyes widening as he struggled to understand. "Maryse...darlin'...you know I don't speak French..."

"You are so frustrating, Teddy!" One line of English dialogue broke through her French speech.

"What?"

"You are driving me insane, Ted. You just do not take a hint...Can you not see I do not want _want _you?" Ted stared at his girlfriend of two years. "You just...I cannot do this any more. I want you to leave." She was close to tears, now, unable to speak in coherent English once more. "I need you to leave, Ted. I would like to be alone."

"You don't mean that...Its the painkillers talking..."

"It is not the fucking painkillers!" Maryse screeched. "I just can't do this any more. I don't want you here. GO!"

Ted stared blankly at the blonde who, through tear filled eyes, blinked back at him defiantly. Her eyes were empty and cold, more terrifying to him than any of the ruthless killers he had seen. He brought himself to full height, his muscles groaning at how slowly he was moving. No words were spoken as, slowly and deliberately – as he waited for her to call out to him, to tell him she was confused – he walked to the dining table, picked up his cell phone and moved towards the front door, where he stopped and methodically pulled on his brown leather jacket. Opening the front door, he turned back to look at where his girlfriend lay, her tear stained face breaking his heart. "I'll be at Brett's if you need me..." he said, his voice breaking as he stepped into the open air, the door slamming behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you to NotFair, PinayPrincesa, CelticFighter, xLou26 and Tiffyxox for the reviews on the last chapter. For this one, there's been no beta (as per usual) and it's slightly been rushed so I apologise for any mistakes I've made. I also apologise for the horrible, horrible thing at the end of the chapter. But other than that, enjoy._

_Kimberly xo_

* * *

Ted lay on the shabby sofa which sat in the centre of his younger brother's sitting room. The cushions were frayed and there was a small cigarette burn on one of the arms but Brett liked it – it had been a great find in a second hand furniture shop when he was back in college and, though it now looked out of place in his modern bachelor pad, Brett wouldn't part with it for love nor money. "Theo?" the younger DiBiase called from the kitchen, a beer in hand. "Miller light do you? Its all I've got left..." Ted looked up and nodded; a Miller light would hardly solve his problems but, hopefully, it could distract him from the fact that his girlfriend had demanded he leave their shared home.

Ted sipped on the beer, making idle chit-chat with his brother who in turn told him how his day had been, about the pretty brunette he saw in the gym and how he'd found ten bucks stashed in the corner of his wallet that he didn't even know about! But nothing seemed to distract Ted who gave as many one word answers as was humanly possible, only initiating conversation with, "Want another one?" Brett sighed as Ted disappeared behind the kitchen counter to rummage in the fridge for more; he was making this very difficult. After the door of the fridge slammed shut, the clink of a bottle opener and a metal cap was drowned out by the familiar buzzing of a cell phone vibrating on the counter. Two bottles held in one hand, Ted leaned over to answer his phone, 'Andy Galloway' flashing on the LCD screen. "Hello?" he answered, wondering what the hell Drew was phoning him for. Had to be concerning the Bennett and Slater cases...

"Alrigh' Theodore?" came the strong Scottish accent through the receiver. "Where the hell are ye? Ah phoned yer hoose but Muh-ryse said ye were oot..."

"Yeah she kicked me out..." Ted said simply, Brett wincing when he heard.

"Oh. Righ' well ye might no want ta hear this then..."

"What is it, Galloway?" Ted swallowed, handing a bottle to his younger brother, annoyance laced in every word.

"Bennett's been released."

"WHAT?"

"No enough evidence, mate. Apparently the wee Spanish guy across the street can prove he wis in the hoose at the time Muh-ryse got attacked...Ah dunno mate but...he's been released."

Ted fell silent as he stared at the floor. "OK." he replied after a moment or two of awkward silence.

"Okay? Wit dae ye mean 'okay'? If Ah wis you – 'n Bennett should be thankful Ah'm no – Ah'd be roon there kickin' fuck out o' him."

"Okay." Ted repeated before pressing the end call button, hanging up on the violent Scotsman who was currently telling him, in vivid detail, just what he would do to Bennett if he was in Ted's shoes.

"You alright, bro?" Brett asked, taking a small sip of his beer. "You, uh, you look kinda pale..."

"He got away with it...that filthy bastard got away with it..."

* * *

"What the hell kinda company am I working for?" Cody muttered, staring at his blackberry as he re-read the text he had just received for the fourth time. There was no explanation to it, just the words 'Never mind the yard today – meet me at Farrelly's at six tonight. Stu." And, after clearing with PJ that it was a mass text and not just Stu's way of keeping him out of the loop, he undressed and went back to bed, much to Beth's confusion.

That day, for Cody, was well spent: he and Beth had had a late breakfast before heading into town to purchase the pram Beth had set her heart on. As well as that, Cody splashed out on a new bag for his fiancé and a pair of dress shoes for Cody – for he could hardly turn up at Farrelly's in a pair of sneakers! A bite to eat and a quick shower and change later and Cody was on his way to Farrelly's on a bus which smelled slightly of urine. "Probably just wants to celebrate him and Heath getting off the charges and, you know, getting rid of Hager," PJ had reassured him on the phone and, while this had seemed logical at the time, Cody's worries began to resurface the longer the bus journey took. _What if someone's got a hold of Stu's phone? What if we're all going here to walk into some sort of trap by this Orton ?_ This thought was gone almost the second it started as his blackberry began to vibrate. "Hello?" he said, not bothering to read the caller ID before answering.

"Hey man, it's David." Cody responded with silence. "David Otunga." A look of recognition graced Cody's eyes as the penny finally dropped and he greeted his colleague. "Uh, where are you?"

"I'm on the bus on the way to Farrelly's to meet the guys. Where are you?" Cody instantly regretted the words leaving his mouth. As PJ had once told him 'fucking Otunga ruins everything. He's a cock block. He's the anti-pussy. He's just fucking weird' and Cody couldn't help but think there was a possibility Otunga had been left out of the evening's festivities.

"Where abouts?"

"Well I just passed the yard so..."

"Get off the bus."

"What?"

"Get off the fucking bus, man."

"Why?"

"Just stop asking questions. Get off the fucking bus and walk to the yard. Wyndham will pick you up. Fucking bus..."

* * *

The jovial laughter emitted from the back booth of Farrelly's as Stu clapped a large hand on Cody's back. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Getting the bus...I've bloody heard it all now..." Cody's cheeks flushed red as he mumbled about always getting the bus what with having no money. The laughter died almost instantly and Stu's face hardened. He rooted around in his pockets for a second, looking panicked momentarily, though a crooked smile graced his face as he produced a set of keys. Slowly – for it was difficult enough when sober to unhook a key from another never mind after a few jars – Stu removed one of the keys and prodded it in Cody's direction. "There you go." He said simply. "Problem solved."

"What?" Cody replied, looking blank as he sipped from his Coors light bottle.

"There's my car. Take it. You can't expect Beth to ride the bus for God's sake..." Cody raised an eyebrow at Stu but made no attempt to take the key from him. "For fuck's sake, Runnels, its not gonna bite you. Take the fucking key. Its yours. Call it a fucking company car for all I care, just take it. Can't believe you expected that poor bird to ride on the bus. Was she getting the bus when she went into labour?" Cody laughed uneasily but finally made a grab for the key. "So, now that's over and done with..." Stu looked at the empty beer bottle in front of him. "Ste, my man – another round!"

* * *

Another round developed into another, then another and after that no one was quite sure where the drink was coming from, who was paying for it or whether they were going home by cab, ambulance or magic carpet. "Righ' ye bunch o' daft bastard, its time fer me ta shut up an' head home so finish yer drinks and get ta fuck!" Ste called across the bar at the group of men still sitting in the booth. They had drank them out of most of his Scotch supply, had worked through two bottles of Smirnoff and the garbage men were going to have a field day when it came to the amount of beer bottles that sat down by the bins out back.

Stu looked at the Irishman through slightly beer-blurred eyes and grinned. "One more for the road?" Heath and his employees nodded vigorously, all agreeing they deserved 'one more for the road'.

"Naw! Ye'll drink meh outta house an' home. Ah've already let yeh stay longer than Ah should have..." Ste looked at his watch: it was almost quarter to one, forty five minutes later than his licensing laws allowed him to serve alcohol. "Ah'm no getting' intae trouble if the police come down 'ere and catch ye lot..."

"I think we both know, Ste," laughed Heath. "That the police won't do anything if they catch us..." Ste raised an eyebrow in Heath's direction; even after being arrested and questioned for rape, the red headed man was cocky as ever.

"Normally, lads, Ah would let ye. But, eh, Ah'm on to a promise the night...Out!" And with that, Ste collected the glasses from the table, leaving the men in the booth unable to drink anymore. Had it been any other bar, Stu would have kicked up, complained about the drink Ste was throwing away, but there was an odd respect between the two Europeans – any trouble Ste found himself in (and he had found himself in quite a bit in the past eighteen months or so) Stu sorted it out, so long as they always had a place to drink.

"So where we heading now?" asked PJ, his accent thick as he slurred his words.

"We can head back to m-" Joe Hennig was cut off as Heath clapped his hands together, grinning.

"Victoria's."

* * *

Victoria's, as far as strip clubs went, was a classy affair, with dark wooden flooring, deep red leather booths lining the walls as well as a smattering of tables and hard-back chairs across the floor. One of the larger walls was covered with a mirror and chrome bar which hid an assortment of alcoholic beverages, from rose wines to hard liquor and absinthe, Victoria's sold it all. Sure, it was for extortionate prices but they sold it all never the length. And then there was the stage. The stage took up the entire front wall and drew all attention to it. It had, at one point, been owned by Strip Club extraordinaire Richard Fleihr but after a small altercation with the chief of police, he had sold it to the current owner, Victoria Varon who, with her long dark curls and gym-honed body looked more like she should be on the stage than in the office.

Most of the guys had gone home after Farrelly's with Joe dubbing strip clubs 'ludicrously distasteful' and PJ calling David a 'limp dicked prick' which had almost caused a fight between the two. And so, now, there were four. Heath, Stu and PJ had always stuck together, causing much speculation between the other members that PJ was a favourite and that, one day, he would be a co-owner, though no one dared say this out loud. But with PJ welcoming Cody so readily, the four of them had headed to Victoria's in a cab.

"You ever been here, son?" Stu asked Cody who shook his head, feeling much like a child amongst grown ups as the other three grinned. "You ever been to any skin bars?" Cody rhymed off the few much lower-class and, altogether much cheaper, bars he had been to. "Then this will be quite the treat...All these girls have their own teeth."

The doormen simply moved aside as Stu and Heath walked in, hesitating for a moment over whether or not to ask PJ and Cody for ID, though they soon had their minds made up for them when Heath glared in their direction. The four took their seats at a table by the front with hard backed chairs, a tall brunette with slightly bucked teeth took their order for four Jack and cokes. "Wonder who's working tonight..." Heath mused, watching as a blonde girl who's face it was hard to make out headed off stage.

"We've got Barbie, Brooke, Nikki, Eve, Alexis, Stacy and Jamie..." replied the waitress as she brought over the drinks. "And Angel, too. But she's only working private bookings tonight." Heath raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. He had heard a lot about Angel's 'private bookings' and they certainly weren't dances.

"These private dances..." he said, holding the waitress's attention for longer than she had planned. "Do any of the other girls do them?"

"Good God, no. None of the ones working tonight at least..." She replied, shortly.

"Thanks, Madison," he said, reading from her name badge and tucking two twenties into her pocket. "You've been a great help..." As she walked away, Heath turned to PJ. "Looks like your luck's out with Barbie then...Cause she'd never fuck you unless you were paying..."

The jovial laughter and teasing of PJ was cut short however as Stu spotted two men two tables in front of them over by the stage door. "Is that Del Rio?" he asked Heath, staring intently at the two dark skinned males. One wore a camel coloured suit which he accessorised with a white shirt and scarf and, making a great faux pas, black mules while the other had gone for the over formal look in a tuxedo and bow tie.

"Think so...That looks like his little bitch boy in the tux." PJ said, leaning across to spot the man. A low laugh came from the man in the camel coloured suit and the three original workers of Bennett and Slater's faces hardened. It was Del Rio alright.

"Think I need to have a word with him..." And with that, Stu got to his feet and began weaving through the tables so that he was walking towards 'Del Rio' from behind, the Latinos none the wiser, leaving Cody asking 'who the fuck is Del Rio?'

Alberto Del Rio was one of the country's biggest cocaine importer and Randy Orton's main supplier. While, most of the stuff available on the streets had no doubt crossed Del Rio's palms at some point, Orton bought straight from the man himself. The two worked well together and many said Del Rio now worked under Orton, importing for Orton and Orton alone. "So what's that got to do with Stu?" Cody asked, a blank expression on his face as his boss stood behind the drug runner who's friend had gone to the bathroom, holding a handgun tightly in his right hand.

"What better way to get to Orton than through his men?" Heath asked as they watched Stu press the barrel of the gun to the nape of Del Rio's neck. The dancers danced on, the waitresses continued to serve and the music continued to pound through the speakers, the altercation between the Englishman and the Latino going unnoticed by everyone in the room besides Heath, PJ and Cody.

* * *

"And you can tell Orton that from me, you hear?" Stu muttered into the ear of Alberto who continued to face straight ahead at the dancers, no outside shows of fear on his face. "Now get the fuck out of here before I pull the trigger. And don't fucking tempt me, Alberto, because I would have no problem taking you out." Stu pushed the gun harder against Alberto's neck. "And take your fat henchman with you."

Alberto moved slowly and deliberately as he got to his feet and turned to face Stu, both men staring at the other with a look of utmost disgust on your face. "You don't know who you're messing with Bennett," Alberto spoke, heavily accented and his breath smelling of stale cigars. "You'll see what happens when you mess with Randy Orton."

"You keep working for him and it'll be you who sees what happens..."

"Is that a threat?" Alberto raised an eyebrow, almost daring Stu to make a move.

"That's a promise. Now piss off. Go on, go and tell Orton my little message you waste of skin..." Alberto wavered for a second before turning on his heel and hotfooting it out of there, his 'fat henchman' hot on his heels. Stu stuffed the handgun back into his pocket and made his way back to his table, a smirk on his face as he swaggered back to his employees.

"Now, fellas, who's for a double?"

* * *

It was a quarter past eight in the morning and Beth Kocanski was wide awake. She had woken every two hours thanks to heartburn and the restlessness of the baby. Each time she woke, she turned to her side, hoping to see Cody in his usual place in the bed but each time she was greeted with an empty bed. She checked her phone each time but there were no texts, no missed calls, no forms of contact from Cody. _You can't begrudge him a night out..._ she thought to herself. _He hasn't been out since I got pregnant...He's probably just staying over at one of the guys houses to save me from waking up..._ But now, it was after eight and he was supposed to be at work in forty five minutes...Surely he needed a change of clothes? He had been wearing dress shoes for goodness sakes! You couldn't do his job in dress shoes...

Hauling herself up higher onto the cushions, Beth let out a loud groan. _Not long now..._she thought to herself, a protective hand coming to rub her stomach as she reached out to grab her phone. A contented smile spread across her face as she felt baby Runnels kick against her hand. "Good morning," she said aloud, grinning. With her phone now in hand, the blonde called her fiancé, wondering if she should bother making him breakfast. "Well hey there, stranger." She laughed when he finally answered.

"Hey Beth," Cody replied, sounding tired. "Sorry I didn't come home...I crashed at PJ's. We ended up in some strip joint and...Got home about five. Didn't wanna wake you up." Beth rolled her eyes but laughed a little.

"That's okay..." she said simply. "Was just wondering where you were...I'm guessing you won't want me to make you breakfast then?"

"Nah, I'll grab something on the way...There's a little café across from the yard, I'll grab something there."

"Oh, okay...But what about your clothes?"

"I've got some of PJ's stuff on...the jeans are a little big but I'll survive for one day..." Cody laughed a little before clearing his throat. "I'm gonna have to go...PJ's giving me death glares across the table. He's ready to go. I love you babe, I'll be home around six."

"Bye, love you too." Beth replied as she hung up the phone. "Looks like its just me and you for breakfast, bump." She said, smiling to herself as she attempted to get out of bed without too much hassle.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend..." a busty brunette with a mole on her chin lay amongst the brown sheets of her bed, staring up at Cody who had just gotten off the phone.

Cody swallowed as he stared down at her, though he couldn't help a small smirk play at his lips. "Would you have cared?"

"Well, no but..." The brunette pouted up at him. "Guess I know why you didn't wanna go back to yours..."

Cody laughed nervously. "Yeah..." he said, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Brooke, I'm gonna go now. I gotta start work soon so, uh, see you around, yeah?"

"You've got my number," she winked, making no attempt to see him to the door.

After leaving the flat (which, he presumed was in the middle of God damn Narnia since he didn't recognise any where nearby), he called PJ. "Uh...can you pick me up? I don't know where the fuck I am...And, uh, maybe you could fill me in on what the fuck happened last night?"


	11. Chapter 11

_Now thank you for waiting for this (since I know the only readers I have for this story are the girls I have on twitter who have been informed almost daily of my writing fails)! But its finally up after six days of staring at my plan, not knowing what to do! _

_Please read, review and, hopefully, enjoy!_

_Kim, xoxo_

* * *

The few days following Cody's infidelity seemed to blur together in a sea of colour, the predominant one being green. For the first time since leaving home at eighteen, Cody had money to burn and, for the first time since they began dating, he was able to treat her like a princess, to spoil her and give her all the things he hadn't been able to before. And that was just what he did, the second his monthly pay was in the bank. Seeing her eyes – wide with shock and elation – when he had produced the keys to the 'company car' had pushed the feelings of guilt and shame from his mind and, keen to keep these feelings at bay, he lavished gift upon gift on her for both her and the baby.

Pacifiers, sterilising kits, bootees, baby grows and sleep suits in a variety of colours covered Beth and Cody's double bed by the end of Sunday night and the dreamy look in Beth's eyes was yet to fade; cooing as she packed the things away. "This is amazing..." she repeated for the umpteenth time in forty eight hours. "I can't believe we can afford this...I had no idea that construction paid so well...Your boss is like our guardian angel, Cody. I mean it...he's really got us out of a hole..."

Cody, checking his phone for any texts of up-and-coming 'jobs' from Stu, glanced up at his fiancée, a small pang of guilt starting to surface at the sight of her smile. "I guess you could say that...He's a good guy, Stu. I've got a lot of respect for him..." The former comic book artist's face whitened as his phone vibrated in his hand. Each time he had received a text since his night out with the boys, his heart had landed in his mouth.

"Everything alright?" Beth asked, noting the look on his face. Cody held his breath as he stared down at the little red star above his "messages" icon. Pressing the middle button of his blackberry, he exhaled, a look of relief washing over him. Where he had expected to see the name 'Brooke' highlighted was 'Heath', the text '7'oclock start tomorrow. H.' underneath. "Cody?"

"Yeah...Just got a 7 o'clock start tomorrow...was hoping for a long lie..." He swallowed hard, trying to look tired though Beth's eyebrow remained raised in his direction. "When did you buy that one? That one with a bunny on it...That's fucking hideous..." He laughed, changing the subject quickly. His whole body seemed to be on fire – it was his own fault and he knew it. He should never have cheated on Beth but he'd damn well die before admitting he had done so...

* * *

The weekend had gone by relatively fast for the rest of the workers at Bennett and Slater with Stu spending the time with his family, Heath and PJ having a barbecue down South with Heath's family and Joe breaking two fingers helping the church cleaner move a rather large effigy of the Virgin Mary. And now that Sunday night had arrived, PJ was wondering where the past two days had gone... The South African tossed a few peppers into his wok, stirring them in with the rest of his chicken stir fry. Sure, the barbecue had been nice but there had been too much red meat for him... With the radio blaring and the window wide open, caution was thrown to the wind for PJ as, stirring his ingredients, he sang along with as much gusto as was possible. As Eminem and Dr Dre's 'I Need A Doctor' (to which PJ had both rapped and sang perfectly) came to an end, PJ shimmied across the room and swayed along as he rummaged in the cupboard for a clean plate. It was the little things he hated about living alone such as dish washing and cleaning the bathroom and, although his mother had given the house a top to toe clean, he was rapidly running out of plates...

Unable to find a decent plate, the lazy 30 year old grabbed a large bowl to fill with his chicken and vegetable mix. Pouring his stir fry into the bowl – and spilling a good amount over the kitchen cabinet – PJ hummed along to Lady GaGa's 'Judas' which now blared from the radio. Throwing the wok into the sink, he grabbed a fork and a salt cellar and turned back to his bowl. He took a sniff of what should have been the blend of vegetables and white meat and choked.

The strong burnt smell filled his nostrils and his face fell. He had always been a half way to decent cook – his mother had always forced him to try new things in the kitchen and, more often than not, they worked – but that smell... Glancing at the clock, he let out a groan. It was little after half past seven and, realistically, he didn't want to be in the kitchen any longer. Staring back at the bowl in front of him, he picked up his fork and held his breath. Stabbing a large piece of chicken and a few vegetables he shoved the fork into his mouth, chewing as quickly as he could to avoid tasting the burnt foods. _Tastes alright..._ he thought to himself, allowing himself another breath. The stench was stronger now...and...was that rubber he could smell?

The South African choked as he attempted to swallow his mouthful, spitting the food all over the counter. As he attempted to catch his breath, PJ gagged. That wasn't the smell of burnt food. He turned around in a blind panic to stare at the cooker he had most definitely switched off, no smoke to be seen. The kitchen seemed hazy as a grey fog seemed to set in, affecting PJ's sight, his taste, his smell and his ability to breathe. He rushed to the door, hauling it open and throwing himself in amongst a thick coat of smoke which seemed to cover the entire hall, making it difficult to see anything past arm's reach. His nostrils and throat were instantly choked with the smoke. "What the fuck?" PJ called out amongst coughs. He wasn't the type of man to have candles, no straighteners had been left on, he didn't smoke and his fire had broken months ago – there was no way a fire could have started on its own.

Using one arm to shield his mouth and nose, he used his other to swing in front of him, clearing as much of a path as he could to get out the front door. The usually thirty second long journey from kitchen to door seemed to take an age and his lungs seemed to fill with contaminated air, his eyes stinging and panic coursing through every fibre of his being. His house...his home...his first home alone, his first home outside South Africa...Not daring to find out the source of the fire, PJ continued his race to the door, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribs, making his insides ache as his hand finally gripped the metal handle. He felt himself almost fall out of the house in his haste to get out of the smoke.

Out in the open, PJ gasped for breath, doubled over as his lungs constricted painfully. Granted, he hadn't inhaled that much smoke but what he had done seemed to be choking him, wrapping around every air way and constricting for all its might. "HELP!" He called out, though it seemed to be more of a strangled squeal. He tried again, this time mustering a much louder cry. He looked up at his house which seemed to emanate an eerie glow from inside, he could see the amber flames licking at the windows, crawling up the curtains and burning everything in sight. Smoke escaped from the open door and hid the house behind its grey cloud.

He was frozen to the ground as he watched the flames, the smoke and the destruction in front of him. He knew that he should shout, bang the doors of his neighbours' houses, alert the police, do something... But he couldn't. The warm feeling on his cheeks told him that he was crying though he couldn't be sure whether it was at the loss of his house or the pain he felt in his lungs. The screech of a car behind him made PJ turn, hot on his heels, to see a black vintage Mustang pull off, one heavily and colourfully tattooed arm resting on the wound down window. PJ's face contorted in disgust as he watched Philip Brooks laugh maniacally through the open window-space. "That fucking BASTARD."

* * *

The inside of Orton's 'lounge' was dark and almost seedy looking with a large pool table in the centre of the room and a wooden semi-circular bar which housed many bottles of Randy's favourite liquors. There was a wide screen television on the wall adjacent to the bar and there was a pair of sofas facing it so that 'the boys' could watch the football or the baseball or whatever lame-assed sports show was on when they were down there. This was where most of Orton's 'associates' met with him, where he offered them a drink, let them sit on the comfortable sofas and, ultimately, involved them in some of his darkest behaviours. This was where plans where made and numbers decidedly came up. And tonight was no different.

Alberto sat on one of the plush sofas, his feet up on a small foot rest as he watched a soccer game half heartedly, his mind more occupied on the bottle of Desperado in his hand. Mere hours after his altercation with Bennett, he had made his way down across the border for a rather important delivery and had only returned home thirty minutes previous. Adam Copeland and William Reso had been playing pool on the table though the two had stopped to argue over whether William was cheating or not and Randy stood leaning against the bar, watching the two, a rum and coke which he swirled around the glass, in his hand.

No text had been sent, nothing to inform Randy that Phil had managed to get the job done and this made the St. Louis native very nervous. He couldn't be the one to call Phil what with call-tracing...The swirling of the glass seemed to speed up, some of the liquid beginning to spill over the edge of the container. A knock on the door snapped him from his thoughts as the butler opened the large wooden door. "Philip is here to see you, Mr Orton..." the plummy Englishman stared intently at his employer until he received a small, curt nod of the head, when he moved out of the way and allowed Phil to enter the room. In a sleeveless 'Gold's Gym' t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, his pierced lip and 'Luck'-themed sleeves seemed out of place in the expensive looking room.

"Done?" Randy asked from across the room, to which Phil replied, "Done."

Nodding his head, Randy's lips curved into something between a smile and a smirk. "William...Adam...How about you two go do something useful? I need to have a talk with Phil and Alberto..." William and Adam glanced at each other sharing a knowing glance. It was always Phil and Alberto. Always. Never William and Adam. Placing the pool cues on the table, the two blondes sighed and left the room. They wouldn't complain to Randy – no one complained to Randy -but they couldn't help but feel slightly undervalued.

"When I left he was crying in front of his house..." smirked Phil, flopping down onto the empty sofa.

"But he saw you, yes?" Alberto asked, dragging his eyes away from the screen to look at Phil who nodded.

"Good..." Randy drained the glass of his drink before placing it on the bar. "And did you hear anything else about this new guy?" Phil shook his head. "I don't know if I like them having someone on their books we don't know about..."

"He don't look like much. Bit of a pretty boy..." Phil shrugged his shoulders; he had seen this 'new guy' and, personally, found him to be a very small threat to anyone never mind a business like Randy's. "I don't think he did anything but drive Lloyd to Jake's house...Probably never fired a gun in his life. Too busy worrying about his manicure..."

Randy sighed. People had underestimated him time and time again because of the 'pretty boy' looks he had held when he was younger. Like Bennett and Slater's latest recruit, with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he had looked innocent when, inside, was a ruthless murderer who had no problem having his younger brother do a life stretch in the local prison for a murder he had committed... "And that's your problem, Phil. You take everyone at face value."

"They were down in Farrelly's on Friday night, I heard...Before they went to Victoria's." Phil cast a smirk in Alberto's direction who was grinning at Phil being scolded. "You know what they say, liquor loosens the tongue...Maybe Farrelly knows something..."

"Of course he fucking knows something, Phil!" snapped Randy, banging his fist on the bar. "He's in their back pocket. Anything he wants, they get for him. A crate of imported wines, a license to stay open until whenever he wants during soccer season, his fucking visa..." Randy began to pace the lounge, significant damage done to the dark wooden flooring where he had paced many times before. "No, you're right though...We need to have a word with Farrelly...Make him talk..."

* * *

Much like most sportless Sunday nights, Farrelly's had been near empty all day and, while the tills had been somewhat steadily ringing all night, Ste was glad to call it a day. Humming along to one of the slow, melodic Irish songs he played in the background, he cleaned his pint glasses. Stacking them in their crates one by one, Ste let out a contented sigh. There was nothing better than having a clean pub at the end of the night, especially when it was all done by yourself. Everything from cleaning the floor to changing the barrels was done by Ste himself. It was his livelihood, his legacy and what he hoped, one day, he would pass on to the little Farrellys though they wouldn't be around for quite sometime...

The door of the bar creaked open, allowing a stream of light from the street outside into the rather dark bar. "Hardy, for God's sake – go home ta yer wife. Wee Ruby'll be wund'rin' wher ye are!" Ste didn't look up – there was no point. Jeff Hardy was a regular and he knew that with a few sharp words, he'd be gone in a moment. Just like every Sunday. "Fuck off away home. Ye'r no doin' anybody any favours spendin' yer money on booze an' fags." No response. Granted, this was strange for Hardy, the mouthy little git always had something to say for him. "Hardy? Hardy?"

There was a loud thud as wood connected with a skull, sending Stephen across the bar, smashing his crate of pint glasses in the process. Disorientated, but still conscious, Ste got to his feet unsteadily to be met with two men; both stood tall and menacing and the bald one held a baseball bat in his hand, the over-tanned one clutching a crow bar which seemed to wilt under his strength. "Look fellas, Ah don' know wha' yer lookin' for but yer certainly no' gonna get it here..." The bald man tilted his head to one side and let out an echoing laugh. "Ah don' wan' any trouble...take the tills...Its naw that kinda pub..." Ste was babbling now as the tanned male walked behind the bar. He offered to open the till but it was obvious that money was not the motivation as he, in one long swipe, smashed the bottles in the optics on the wall.

Glass scattered the floor as the alcohol flooded from the now redundant optics. Ste braced himself, putting up his fists. He was no match for baseball bats and crow bars but this was his pub and he'd be damned if he let them take it without a fight.

* * *

Beth let out a sigh as she lay in her third bath of the evening, her protruding stomach sticking up through the bubbles. It was hard surviving on so little sleep these days; the heart burn, the back ache and bump's decision to wake up in the middle of the night and play football with her organs were certainly taking their toll on her sleeping pattern. "Least I smell good..." she muttered to herself thinking about how much bubble bath she had used in the past week. The blonde let out a little giggle as she cupped both hands over her bump. "Not like we can't afford it, is it..."

She traced patterns with her fingers across the stretched skin and smiled in delight when she felt her unborn child kick. "I didn't think we'd make it," she said, more to herself than to the child, though that was who she addressed. "Your daddy and me...I thought we'd end up living in a two bedroom flat with mom and Mike and you'd only have a tiny little corner of the room and only second hand toys and..." The blonde stopped herself, sighing in relief. "Its not going to be like that, though. No, sirree..." she groaned as she repositioned herself in the bath, the dull ache in her back still there. "You're going to be such a spoiled baby. But not like Aunt Carol's kids...No...You're going to be kind and gentle, just like your daddy. And you're going to help people, just like me when I volunteer at the soup kitchen. You're going to be just like him, I bet...Creative. I'm sure I read somewhere that babies get that side from their dad...Cody didn't..."

Running a wet hand through her hair, Beth trained her eyes on the bump in front of her. "Your grandpa Runnels is a good man, you know. He might've done some bad things but they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and look at your daddy...Look at your Uncle Dustin. He was a great man. You'll meet him one day, though...when your daddy's less pig-headed. That's not a trait I want you to take from him..."

Laying in the bath with just her, her thoughts and Bump gave her time to muse things over. Mainly what she had to pack for her hospital bag, the names they were still undecided on, how Cody's mother would find out she was a grandmother and, more often than not, thanking God for giving them such a boost. As the water became tepid and the bubbles seemed to disappear, Beth hauled and pushed herself from the bath (which was becoming more and more of an effort each time...) and dried herself off.

She stood in front of the mirror smiling, her pyjama pants pushed down below the bump, Cody's baggy shirt now stretched against it. She had worried so much during her pregnancy – so much so that she'd had a scare or two in the later months – but now, everything was falling into place and, in the next few weeks she would be awake at this time again, Cody fast asleep in their bed and their son in her arms, begging to be fed, changed or, just generally demanding attention. "Just like his dad then..." she laughed to herself as she padded across the hall in her bare feet.

In her room, Cody lay splayed across the bed, taking up more than his half with his long, spindly looking legs. The window lay open a fraction and the thin, second hand curtains she had taken from her mother's house blew in the night wind. Beth started, her hand protectively going to her stomach as a loud buzzing noise seemed to take over the room, Cody's phone vibrating against the wood of the night stand.

The sleeping 25 year old made no attempt to wake up and showed no signs of even hearing the vibrations and so, rolling her eyes at how heavy a sleeper he was, Beth manoeuvred around the bed to where the cell phone was. It's probably Stu...she thought to herself, though even this seemed strange. Bosses don't call at one in the morning. The 'unknown caller' sign flashed on the blackberry screen and, though she questioned whether it was worth answering, Beth pressed the answer call button. "Hello?" she whispered, keen not to wake her fiancé unless she had to.

"Runnels?" Came a husky voice through the receiver.

"No, this is his fiancée. He's a asleep right now...Can I take a message?"

There was a low cackle through the phone which unnerved Beth, sending a shiver through her body. "Sure," the man's voice replied. "Tell him if he's not at Ryder and Hawkins by two o'clock, the next time he sees his dad will be in a casket."


	12. Chapter 12

_This chapter was written in a record 9 hours. Though whether that's a good or a bad thing is up to you. Thank you to all nine reviewers from the last chapter - each and every review is appreciated and loved. Thank you dearly!_

_Now, on with this chapter - read, review, enjoy._

_Kimberly xo_

* * *

With ashen face and damp hair sticking to the back of her neck, Beth's fingers shook as she dropped the cell phone which clattered against the wooden bedside table. The noise it made as the metal and plastic connected with the wood didn't affect Cody, who continued to sleep on after turning over onto his side. "Cody?" Beth's throat was dry and the call came out as more of a croak than any form of intelligible speech. "Cody?" She was a little louder this time, though still not enough to wake her sleeping fiancé who grunted in response before sloppily mumbling a few words in his slumber. As she tried for the first time, she leaned across, gripping Cody's exposed arm with both hands and shaking him.

The dark haired male groaned in his sleep once more and swatted Beth away from him. Taking a deep breath and wincing as her unborn child used this moment to take a swift kick at her, Beth shook Cody once more, this time with much more vigour. "Wassamatter?" Cody's voice, thick with sleep, came from between the pillow and the covers he had swathed himself in. His eyes were almost glued together as he peered up at Beth with one, half opened eye. "Izzitthebaby?" His words were slurry as he did his best to wake himself up. From his position on the bed, Beth looked scared, one hand clutching at her bump, the other running through her damp hair. She shook her head minutely, her hands shaking violently and the dark circles around her eyes much darker than usual. Cody swallowed, pushing himself up into a sitting position, now fully jolted awake. "What is it?"

Unblinking, the blonde stared down at him. "Its...its your dad..."

"Oh," said Cody, slumping back down into a half-laying position. "Is he dead?" Cody's face and voice were deadpan as his hand searched the side table for his phone. "Where's my phone?"

Beth's choked sob went unnoticed by Cody who discovered his phone on the floor, stretching out to get it. "Well?"

"No...no he's not dead..."

"Shame..." Cody's blasé attitude shocked Beth who spluttered at him before bursting into tears. "Beth...Beth...calm down. Baby...what's wrong?"

* * *

"Someone called," she finally managed to choke out, amongst chokes for air and watery sobs. "Someone called and they...they asked for you and...I said I'd take a message...they have your..." Coughing and spluttering as she choked on her tears, Beth broke down again. "They have your dad...They said they're going to kill him."

Stuart Junior's cold had kept the entire family awake for most of the week and so, as Stuart and Kat finally slipped into bed, it was with tired eyes and weary bones. "I really need to stop breast feeding..." Kat said, laying flat on her back as she stared at the ceiling. "I can't handle these night feeds any more..." She waited, hoping for some sort of sympathy from her husband but the only response she got was a long snore. "Men..." she groaned before turning onto her side dramatically.

Tossing and turning, Kat struggled to sleep, though Stu snored on. She tried to sleep on her back, on her front, under the covers, on top of the covers, at the top of the bed, at the bottom of the bed but nothing seemed to work.

It was over two hours after Stu had gone to sleep when Kat finally felt her eyes get heavy as she was dragging into a light slumber. But her sleep was short lived as, almost the second she began to dream (a frivolous affair in which she was in a field in South Germany with her childhood pet) her eyes snapped open again at the sound of Stu's phone ringing. Instantly, she reached out and grabbed the phone, pressing the green 'call' button before pressing it to her ear. "Stu's phone."

"Hey uh...its Cody. Can you, erm, can you put Stu on? It's kinda urgent?" It had been in a blind panic that he had holed himself up in the bathroom after getting the finer details of the call from Beth. It had been an even blinder panic in which he found himself scrolling through his phone book and stopping at Stu's name. And now he was here. Waiting. A gruff noise came through the receiver which sounded like nothing more than 'lo' but Cody knew it was Stu. "Stu...Stu I need your help."

Stu listened, giving small noises of agreement and the occasional 'hmmm' in all the right places, until Cody was finished when, slowly and deliberately, he spoke coherently for the first time in the phone call.

* * *

"Ryder and Hawkins, hmm?" Cody made a noise in the back of his throat to confirm that was what he said. "Oh Orton's definitely involved..." Cody listened intently to every small noise Stu made. After much deliberation, heavy swallowing and sighing, Stu finally spoke again. "Get dressed. I'm gonna call PJ and Heath. We'll be there in half an hour..." And with that the phone rang off, Stu having hung up on the other line.

"So he never said to come alone?" Heath, being the calming force of the group, sat at the kitchen table, holding Beth's hand. She had just about calmed down when Heath, Stu and PJ had entered the house, making her tell them what had happened during the phone call. Heath, taking the role as gentleman, stayed with Beth in the kitchen, making her a cup of tea. He had offered to make her some of his "special" jerk chicken but she had declined.

Cody, Stu and PJ had moved into the living room to discuss the meaning behind this, to talk about the actions they would have to take. But, ready to leave and head to Ryder and Hawkins, Stu now stood in the doorway, glaring at Heath. "That shit only happens in the movies..." he said, briskly. "Now are you gonna wait here in case..." Heath and Stu shared a knowing look and Heath patted his top pocket. "Well, we'll see you soon..." Stu clapped his hands together and, taking long strides, left the house: business as usual for him. PJ was next to leave – he nodded 'respectfully' to Beth and gave a strange sort of salute to Heath. And then there was Cody who came into the kitchen, gave Beth a kiss and made her promise not to worry. But, with an 'I love you' he was gone, leaving Heath to explain just what was going on now...

Cody swallowed hard as he slipped into the back seat of a car he had never seen before. With its all black tyres, the high sheen from the newly polished body and the tinted windows, he couldn't help but feel like he was in some sort of gangster movie. But, as Stu had reminded them just minutes ago, this was all real. His breath seemed to slow as he clipped his seat belt in and it was almost in slow motion that Stu turned to him, asked if he was okay and informed him that, "Its just you and PJ in there, mate. For once, I'm just the designated driver. If you need me, I'll be in there. But if we can keep this as small time as possible – this part at least – it would be best..."

Time seemed to re-adjust and, once he was working at a faster pace, Cody asked, "This part?"

"Well, yeah. You don't expect to just walk in there, for them to hand over your dad and be on your merry way do you?" Cody's shoulders sagged. He hadn't thought about that – hadn't even given any thought as to why they had his father or why he was even bothering going to get the worthless piece of crap... His head in his hands, the former comic book writer began a chant-like muttering of 'fuck, fuck, fuck'. "Fucking slap him PJ. Can't have him going in there like that..." PJ unclipped his seat belt and leaned into the back of the car, fully intending on smacking Cody, who started from his trance just in time to avoid a hand to the face.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I just...I hadn't thought what they'd...why he'd be there...I..."

"You'll only find out once you've gone in..." said PJ, turning back round to face the front and re-buckling his seat belt.

* * *

"We good?" Stu asked and after confirmation that they were, indeed, 'good' they began the drive down town, to where the seedy nightclubs were.

There had always been a certain stigma about the nightclubs which took residence on Hill Street. They were situated down an alley of sorts, away from the main street and, ultimately, in the shadows. There were no large street lights, no flashing neon signs nearby and faux red carpet lining the way to the door for these nightclubs. Instead there was a mean looking bouncer or two on each door, a dark curtain at the doorway and a permanent smell of nicotine hovering around. And Ryder and Hawkins was no different. Run by two East Coast try-hards who had dropped out of college for a taste of fame, it was the cheapest place for Z-list celebrities to get drink, get laid and get blow. And that was exactly what they did. In recent months, Randy Orton had taken on Ryder and Hawkins' 'back rooms' as another of his meeting places. This one, while it lacked the grandeur of his 'lounge' was better for the 'messier' meetings; it was an awful bother cleaning blood from his sofas...

* * *

Stu pulled up in the next street and waited for Cody and PJ to leave. Both were packing 8mm guns and both knew what to do if things got heavy. As the two made their way into the next street, both looking like a pair of school boys off to lose their virginity, Stu checked his cell phone. Besides one missed call and a voice mail; nothing. He pressed the according buttons and listened to the missed call. A breathy Irish brogue gasped down the receiver at him, as though struggling for breath. The voice was weak, nearly inaudible, and the Englishman struggled to hear, "Stuar'...Ryan an' Gallows 'ave jus' lef'...They've wrecked me pub...lookin' for inf'rmation on the new kid...On Cody..." The beeping noise which came after this told Stu that Stephen had not managed to continue the message. "FUCK!"

Cody and PJ entered the darken club – though not without a bit of questioning from the doormen – to find it empty, save for Phil Brooks and Randy Orton sitting in a semi circular booth facing the door, a long haired man standing either side of the booth. Behind the bar was a dark haired man who would not have looked out of place in Jersey Shore, calling on one of the workers from across the room. PJ's eyes were instantly drawn to Phil who waved in his direction, a smirk plastered all over his face. The hatred and venom seemed to seep from every one of PJ's pores and Cody could feel him shaking with rage, though they were a good few inches apart. "You wanted to see me?" It was not Cody's voice which spoke, though it was certainly his lips which moved.

Phil and the two long haired men remained silent, none of the three moving. It was Randy who moved, slipping from his seat in the booth and walking towards Cody and PJ. "Welcome, gentlemen," he said, his calm, husky voice never faltering or wavering. "Care to join us? I'm sure Zack wouldn't whipping up two more of his specialities. What is it you call them, Zack? Long Island Iced Z?"

"That's right boss..." said the Jersey Shore cast off from behind the bar. PJ made a mental note that one of the club's owners called Orton 'boss' though his eyes were still glued to Phil. He had his own motives. His own personal vendetta. His own reasons for being here.

"So now...let's talk business..." Randy was already walking back to his seat. "Take a seat boys. They're rather comfortable..." The two pulled up very stiff looking hard-backed chairs, not daring to sit too close to the 'enemy'. "Now...where where we?"

"Why me?" Again, Cody swore it wasn't him who spoke though the words definitely came from his mouth. "Why my dad? We don't even speak..."

"He did say that..." Phil spoke for the first time, stroking his facial hair as though giving the matter some deep thought. "But these old drunks...they'll say anything..."

"Now, now, Phil...He's not a drunk...He's a gambler. Though I can't decide what's worse..."

Cody swallowed. "He's nothing to me..."

"Then why are you here?" Randy smirked, taking a sip of what looked to be water. "He means just as much to you as you do to him...How touching..." The long haired men flanking the booth scoffed. "Though he was really quite upset to hear about your new acquaintances...Especially after Dustin..."

"Dustin?" PJ turned to look at Cody who's face was set, the pulse in his jaw twitching.

"Oh, you're ashamed of him? Haven't told your new friends about your brother? Your father won't be happy about that...if he lives long enough to hear..."

Cody seemed to snap. "What do I have to do? What do I gotta do to make you let him go?"

"I thought you didn't care..."

"I dont but...he's still...Just let him go!"

"Half a mill." The words rolled off of Randy's tongue as though he were asking for him to pass the salt.

"What?" PJ and Cody both stared incredulously at the older man.

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

"I...I don't have that kind of money."

"No...But Bennett and Slater do." There was a small intake of breath from PJ and Cody closed his eyes momentarily.

"And if I don't pay?"

"Your dad dies."

"So...how long have I got?"

PJ's hand twitched in his pocket, his fingers lacing into the the trigger of his gun. Randy's eyes were glued to Cody but, the second he began to draw the gun from his pocket, a bullet whizzed past Cody, the Jersey Shore wannabe holding a semi automatic up. Soon enough there were bullets flying all over. Cody and PJ fired for all their worth though it was no use. A bullet grazed Cody's arm, a burning sensation taking over where the bullet had been. "FUCK!" he let out a cry as both he and his colleague did their best to run from the bar. They were followed by bangs, bullets and Phil who chased them from the bar, firing shots in all directions.

The two ran, much faster than Cody's legs could carry him. Panting, gasping for breath and now bleeding, Cody collapsed into Stu's waiting car, PJ following suit. The door was barely closed, Phil's last bullet skimming against the metal frame of the car, when Stu sped off, the wheels screeching against the road. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" he hollered as he sped off. "PJ? PJ? Oh fuck, Peej, you're bleeding..."


	13. Chapter 13

Author's note : Sorry it's taken me so long to update - I've not been as involved in the wrestling fandom as of late and only recently got back into it so...I apologise. Also, I took a tiny bit of artistic license when it came to this chapter purely because as an English citizen, I had no idea of the ins and outs of American Health Care and the restrictions imposed to immigrants. I did as much reading up on it as possible including a 4 page lawyer's brief on his South African client who was refused Health Care. I tried my best but I do know there will be a few loopholes and I apologise if I'm not 100% correct. Thank you for your patience and I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

Read, Review and Enjoy

Kimberly xo

* * *

It had all happened so fast – within seconds of them stepping into the hospital reception, PJ had been hauled onto a bed and rushed off in another direction, a rather brisk nurse pulling Cody off into a private room to inspect his arm while Stu hovered in the reception ashen white and shaking. "And how did you say you did this?" asked the nurse as she finished stitching the wound on Cody's arm which, until the staff had pointed it out, had gone unnoticed. Cody stayed silent, his mind trained on his friend, wherever he was... He had lost so much blood; Cody's shirt was testimony to that. It couldn't be right... You couldn't lose that much blood and still be healthy... "Mr. Runnels, I asked how you did this."

The former comic-book writer waited until the nurse had moved away from his arm. "We were just messing around...target practice, I guess you could call it," he replied, his voice sounding far away. "He caught my arm and...it rebounded. He'd never fired a gun before...He's...He's not even supposed to have one..." He choked out the last part, re-iterating the story he and Stu had practised before PJ had lost consciousness. The sceptical nurse raised an eyebrow as she moved Cody's arm to admire her work. She hadn't expected the truth of course – in her line of work it was rare to get an honest answer when it came to guns – but that story seemed almost truthful. Her eyes dragged over the man before her and, lips pursed, she nodded. It would explain a lot of things, she thought as she placed a small bandage over the graze which sat just below Cody's open wound.

"I'm guessing the big guy out there won't be pleased you're telling me this, huh?" she asked, trying to press into the story, determined to get more information. "The English one..."

"He's our boss. I...I didn't know who else to call when it happened..." hissed Cody as she tightened the bandage. He had never been much of a liar but, as he had noted before, it was all coming so natural to him, the lies slipping from his tongue with ease. "He says we'll get arrested...that Paul'll get deported..."

"Deported?"

"Yeah, he's from South Africa," Cody sighed before moving his hand up to rub at his temples. "Doesn't have any family here, you know? We're all he's got...And we let him get shot..." He paused dramatically, swallowing for good measure. "It was only supposed to be a bit of fun..."

The formerly brisk and uptight nurse mellowed a little, her hand coming to rest against his arm now that she was done. "I'm sure your friend will be okay, Mr. Runnels. We have the very best doctors in the state working here and I'm sure something as trivial as a bullet wound will be no problem for them..." Cody wanted to argue that a bullet wound was hardly trivial but instead he nodded, looking down at his blood soaked shirt. "That's you all done, now. You can go out and wait with your boss and I'll go try to find out how your friend's doing..." Another nod was the only response she received as the patient got to his feet and pulled back the curtain on his own. "You'll need to go to your own doctor to have the stitches removed but I'll give you a call-back and patient care card once

I've got some information on your friend for you..."

Cody shuffled from the curtained-off bed as he headed back to the reception where he found Stu sitting in an uncomfortable looking, plastic hard backed chair. The tall Englishman's legs seemed to stretch out for miles in front of him, his hands clasped in his lap and his head tilted back slightly, his eyes closed until the loud scraping of a chair being dragged behind him startled him. "What'd the nurse say?" he asked simply, once he had registered his employee's sorry looking state.

"That I'm lucky its only a flesh wound..."

Stu chuckled to himself as Cody sat down. "Tis merely a flesh wound," he said dramatically, emulating a sketch from a well known British comedy which was lost on his American friend.

"Huh?" Stu shook his head before Cody continued. "She also said she's going to go see how PJ is doing but that things as 'trivial as bullet wounds' were no challenge for the doctors here..."

Stu nodded solemnly but lowered his voice before speaking again. "She bought it?" Cody nodded once. "Good...You should call Beth. Tell her that you're at the hospital and that you're okay but PJ is a little worse for wear...And tell her that Heath will explain everything when he knows more."

"But what about..."

"Call Beth. She doesn't need to be any more stressed than she already is," Stu's business-like tone shocked Cody a little but the Englishman merely continued to stare straight ahead. The dark haired man rummaged in his trouser pocket before handing over his cell phone. "Go." He urged.

Feeling tired and dizzy, Cody got to his feet once more and, phone in hand, made his way outside the hospital, leaving Stu in the position he had found him; alone with his thoughts. As he sat in the reception, amongst the sick and the ailed, Stu found himself thinking back over his friendship with PJ. He would never admit it, of course, but he had always had a bit of a soft spot for the South African. He could still remember the way he had walked into the makeshift office little over two years ago and, slapping his resume on the desk, had simply said 'Is there a job going?' From that very moment, Stu and Heath had both known that he belonged with them.

Stu raked a hand through his normally well-gelled hair and let out a sigh. There was no way that PJ could be seriously hurt. In his time working in the business, he had never lost a member of staff. He had fired more than he could count and many had simply quit due to fear and lack of ability but none of them had ever been forced out of his company due to injury or, Stu swallowed, death. There had been so much blood – the most Stu had seen since his own altercation with a blade in Eastern Europe – and the car, no doubt, would smell coppery for months. His stomach heaved at the thought but he did his best to compose himself. Now was not the time to develop a weak stomach.

Still, the kid had done better than expected. Cody... Stu thought with an exasperated sigh. How had he even got into this mess? He would blame himself, thought Stu. Once the reality of it all had hit, that was. He was still in shock, as it was at the minute. But that wouldn't last and, soon, everything would crumble on him. Stu knew this from experience...

What had happened once they'd entered Ryder and Hawkins? There had been no time to discuss it on the way to the hospital and, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Who had fired first? Had Cody's father been there? Had terms and conditions been discussed? Just what the fuck had happened?

A tall doctor with salt and pepper hair stood before the main reception desk, speaking in a not-so-hushed whisper to the nurse who stood behind it. "Where's his next of kin?" he asked, his eyes scanning the people waiting by the reception. The nurse cast her eyes towards Stu, though her response was hard to hear. Stu straightened up in his seat, smoothing down the blood splattered white shirt he wore. The doctor turned and moved towards him, covering the ground between them in a few, long strides. "Doctor Laurinaitis," he said, extending his hand to Stuart who's love of formality forced him to stand up to shake it. "And you are?"

"Stuart Bennett," he replied, hastily adding, "Paul's employer."

"Nurse Moretti informs me that you're as close to a next of kin we're getting this side of Africa, am I correct?" Stuart nodded. "That...may be a problem." A cold chill washed over the Englishman who gave just a dry swallow as a reply. "Mr. Lloyd, as you know, received a bullet wound to the abdominal area and, as a result will need to undergo an abbreviated laparotomy as well as abdominal reconstruction surgery and so -"

"Hold your horses," said Stu, holding up a hand to interrupt. "Abbreviated what?"

"Its a form of damage control surgery, you could say. It will be a semi-invasive surgery to section off the damaged area and the untouched area before we begin to reconstruct the area which the bullet has torn through..."

"Okay..."

"Now normally this would not be a problem but giving Mr. Lloyd's nationality and..."

"That's a bit racist, ain't it?"

"Please let me finish, Mr. Bennett. Your assumptions are highly ignorant and most insulting," Doctor Laurinaitis fixed Stuart with a hard stare and, while the Brit wanted to argue back that he was most certainly not ignorant, he kept quiet. "Mr. Lloyd has no form of Health Care, no insurance plan to speak of and, as he has not been in the country for five years, he does not qualify for Medicaid. Which leaves us unable to operate..."

"I'll pay," said Stuart simply, shrugging his shoulders. "You take American Express, right? I mean I know some places back home don't but..."

"It's not that simple, Mr. Bennett," the doctor sighed. "You are not Mr. Lloyd's next of kin by any means and we would need to speak to..." Doctor Laurinaitis raked his eyes over the file he held in one hand. "Mrs. Avril Lloyd before we can perform any form of surgery or accept any form of payment and even then..."

"Look Doctor, I don't care what your stupid restrictions say – this surgery will go ahead. Like I said, I'll pay; no questions asked. We could even add a couple zeros on to the end of the cost if it means you get it done faster. Get it done by the right people. Get it done now."

"If you're trying to bribe me, sir, it's not going to work..."

"Can you just..." The muscle in Stu's jaw tensed, pulsing as his fists curled into balls. This man was incredibly difficult. "Look, call Avril. Her number should be in PJ's cell...it was probably in his jeans when he came in. Call her and tell her that his boss is willing to pay for any surgery, any after care and...and her flight here if need be."

John Laurinaitis watched as the Englishman stared at him pleadingly. Standing at well over six foot, he had looked intimidating at first but now he looked scared. Scared and panicked and slightly unstable. "I'll see what I can do..." he said, stiffly, unsure how else to respond as he fled from the reception to find the patient's cell phone.

* * *

Cody pressed Stu's cellphone almost painfully against his ear, his wounded arm aching and burning as he waited for his fiancée to answer the call. The ringing seemed too loud, his breathing too ragged and his head began to hurt. How had it come to this? Just a few weeks ago he had been finishing off another character on his graphics tablet, sure that this one would be the one which made him millions and now here he stood, a bullet wound to the arm, covered in blood and wondering if he had just seen his colleague die. "Cody?" her voice was the final straw and Cody soon felt warm, wet tears on his cheeks.

"Beth, baby..." he was choking on his words, each syllable catching in his throat or being drowned by a sob.

"Cody? Are you okay? Oh my God, Heath, something's wrong...Cody?" the blonde's voice was shrill, frantic and piercing and it took all that Cody had not to hang up on her.

"Beth...Beth I'm okay..." he finally choked out. Her hysteria did not falter however and she continued to repeat his name, begging to know what had happened, if he was safe... "Baby, I'm so sorry...I just wanted a better life for you and the baby and..." He took a moment to compose himself before sniffing. "I've messed it all up...I should never...I would...I...I love you, Beth..."

"I love you too, Cody, but you're not explaining anything...What's happened?" he heard Heath's voice in the background before Beth spoke again. "I don't know, Heath. He's...He's a mess..." There was a shuffle on her end of the phone before another voice joined the conversation.

"Cody?" it was Heath's southern drawl. "Cody what happened?"

"Its...Its PJ. Stu says that he'll tell you -" His words were masked by the screeching siren of an ambulance as it halted before the front doors of the hospital. The doctors and nurses erupted from inside as they rushed to greet the paramedics and the body which was being pulled from the back of the emergency vehicle. "He'll be in touch...Shit...Heath..." Cody was jostled as a nurse pushed past him screaming about multiple contusions, blunt force traumas and burst eye sockets. "Tell Beth I love her and...and I'll be home as soon as I can..."

And with that he pressed the end call button, stuffing the cell phone into the pocket of his jeans and relaxing against the wall, dragging both hands through his short hair. He had ruined it all. Ruined everything for Beth, had his useless, no-good father kidnapped and possibly had his colleague killed. And all for a few measly dollars...

The paramedics rushed past him, the body on the stretcher nothing more than a sea of crimson and fiery red hair which stood straight up off the victim's head. "The victim is Stephen Farrelly, suffering from a serious blunt force trauma to the external occipital crest as well as multiple contusions to the face and upper body..." the words carried back towards Cody as they moved into the heart of the hospital, leaving the former comic book writer cold. Ste.


	14. Chapter 14

This chapter is completely un-beta'ed and I expect a thousand mistakes. They're all mine. I don't have much to say before this one except that I'm really sorry it's taken so long to get it done. Just read, enjoy and review.

Kimberly

xoxox

* * *

"Please, Maryse... I don't know what else I can say... I love you and I just," Ted's voice cracked slightly and the policeman was forced to swallow before he could continue, the cell phone pressed tightly to his ear. "I just need to know you're okay... Call me back – please?" His voice was almost pleading as he ended the call, pressing the 'end call' button and throwing the cell phone onto the dashboard.

"Finally," came the response from the Scotsman to his left. "Ah can crank this baby up." Ted rolled his eyes. Reeking of Red Bull with tendrils of hair falling from his pony tail, Drew Galloway gripped the steering wheel with such ferocity that his knuckles turned white. Ted's lips pursed to a thin line; Drew was not a dangerous driver, per se, but he was incredibly reckless and, Ted had noted, saw no use for his right wing-mirror. This, coupled with the fact that he had worked his way through a four pack of large Red Bulls in the past hour and a half did nothing to reassure Ted that he would make it to the hospital in one piece. Drew flicked the lever by the indicators which turned on the emergency lights and siren as he manoeuvred through the lanes on the free way without so much as a glance behind them.

"I swear, Drew, if you weren't a cop, you'd be a getaway driver..."

"Rally car driver, man, rally car..." Ted didn't question his colleague on his response – often it was best to leave the Scotsman to himself. "Here wis us thinkin' it wis gonnae be a quiet night... Shootins, beat-doons, a hit 'n run... This is the good stuff, man."

Ted stared at his incredulously. "The good stuff? A man is on the operating table and another wounded from that shooting and that 'beat down' could be fatal. Or had you forgotten that?" Drew swatted the air with his right hand, laughing. This was why he had gotten into the force – for the high way chases, the crazy shoot outs, the adrenaline, the rush – and it wasn't often he got to feel the buzz he felt right now.

"Bet ye any money Bennett's involved," he said, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. "Wan way or another, he's gonnae be involved. Ah kin feel it..." Since the ordeal with Maryse, Ted had been uneasy whenever the Englishman was mentioned. He was not, by nature, a violent man – he was calm and respectful, he was strong in faith and, for the most part, he was peaceful which was exactly why he had been paired with the most unhinged officer on the force – but lately, he had been filled with such a rage... Maryse wouldn't return his calls and Bennett walked free. Where was the justice? Brett had reminded him multiple times that Bennett had an alibi and yet something still unsettled him about the whole situation. He was involved somehow, Ted just had to prove it...

Soon enough they were parked behind an ambulance, with Drew adopting his most professional demeanour which, in the grand scheme of things, was not all that professional. He fixed his hair, adjusted the collar of his shirt and gave himself a quick squirt of body spray as Ted checked his cell phone for any response from Maryse which both officers knew would not have arrived. "He looks familiar, right?" said Ted, his brow furrowed as he stashed his cell into his pocket, his eyes scanning over a young man by the entrance. His shirt was covered in blood and a bandage had been wrapped tightly around his upper arm, his face bore signs of tears and he looked as though he were about to faint.

"Naw," said Drew simply. "Never seen him afore – noo lets move and get in tae that shootin'..."

* * *

Cody squared his shoulders. He could feel the two pairs of eyes boring into him and was not going to look pathetic in front of those two. Cops, he presumed, from the suits and the stares. They gave off a law enforcing vibe and that was the last thing he and Stu would need. The former comic book writer turned and headed into the hospital once more, keen to reach his boss before the two supposed police officers; he had to tell him about Ste.

When he reached Stu, he found him slumped in the same seat he had been in when he had left. "Ste," he said breathlessly, his mouth struggling to form the words. But it only took one: before he even tried to explain, Stu was reminded of the voice mail he had been left. It had flown straight from memory the moment he had seen PJ bleeding but now... He jumped to his feet and rushed to the reception where he rapped his knuckles against the counter impatiently.

"How did ah know we'd find you here, Bennett?" came a slow Scottish drawl behind him before he had been given a second look from the young medical assistants behind the reception. Cody's blood ran cold as he slowly turned around, the two suspected police officers standing in the threshold of the hospital. "Ah think we need to hiv a wee chat, dae we no?"

"Fuck off Galloway," snapped Stu, once again rapping his knuckles against the reception. "Stephen Farrelly. Where is he? What happened to him?"

"And why does that concern you, Bennett?" asked Ted, glaring at the much larger man who continued to pay them no mind. "Was it one of your men who put him here? No, he was living in your back pocket wasn't he? So who was it? What's it for?"

"Enough of this!" Nurse Moretti had returned, looking furious. "This is no place for these shenanigans officers! If you have a reason to be here, state your business with Doctor Laurinaitis and address it in quiet. And, Mister Bennett, will you sit down? We are not at liberty to give you any details until his wife is here. Now sit down," her stern face was tinged with red and her hand shook as she pointed to the seat Stu had vacated.

The waiting area of the hospital was in stunned silence, every prospective patient or waiting relative staring on incredulously as the nurse ordered the men around. She led the police officers through the hospital to find her colleague, leaving the large, red-in-the-face Englishman to stew. His jaw was set, his hands clenched into fists and his heat beating much faster than was healthy. By the time Nurse Moretti arrived back in the waiting area, his face had begun to return to his natural colour. "Mister Bennett, Mister Runnels... Your colleague has been seen to, his health care dealt with and he is currently awaiting surgery. He's been put into a drug-induced sleep and he will be heading to the OR in the next hour. If you would like, we can offer you the relatives' room – I imagine the officers would like to speak to at least one of you and we'd rather you didn't do it in such a public place..." Stu opened his mouth but before he could speak, the nurse continued. "Mister Farrelly is receiving treatment. That is all I can tell you until his wife arrives, as I have already said. Now... If you will please follow me?"

Cody nodded, willing himself to speak, to say something – anything! - but nothing came out... He was struck dumb. He had never seen anyone die. His dog had been put down a few years back and _that _had been hard enough... He couldn't imagine Ste or PJ dying. Especially not PJ... His feet moved before he was aware of it and by the time he came to his senses, he was already in the relatives room. Stu was seated on a hardback chair, his elbows braced on his knees, his head in his hands. "Serious blunt force trauma to the head," Cody said, the words leaving a horrible taste in his mouth. "That's what they said... When they brought him in, I mean. They called it something else but they meant his head. He had something wrong with his face and body, too... Multiple contusions. But it was his head they were worried about... I could see it." Stu didn't look up but Cody heard a choking noise.

Stu Bennett was not a man who cried. He dealt with his emotion in his own way and, even at the birth of his own children, he had not shed a tear. He hadn't cried when a Romanian psychopath had hacked at his arm with a blade, nor when a back-street doctor had crudely stitched the wound back up. He had not wept when his father died, nor when Kat had spoke of divorce shortly after moving to the States. And yet, in less than a week, he had found himself crying. "Cody," he said, his voice thick and muffled behind his hands. "Go get me a coffee, ay?" If truth be told, he doubted he could drink it but he had to be alone. He had to be...

The moment Cody left the room, Stu's shoulders began to shudder as great, racking sobs took over. Stephen Farrelly was more than a bar tender. He was a friend. He was the first person he had thought of when choosing Godparents for Stuart junior, the only person he had told about his family life back in England and the only person he would trust with real secrets. He was close to smashing up the relatives room, tearing the paintings off the walls and smashing the chairs against the door. He wanted nothing more than to release all the anger he felt pent up inside and yet he couldn't do anything but cry. And so he wept until Cody returned from the coffee machine, rubbing at his eyes and glaring at the younger man when he offered him a tissue. "How's Beth?" he asked, after moments of silence. He held the plastic cup of lukewarm coffee between two hands, staring into the murky liquid.

"I don't know," Cody responded, honestly. He thought of his fiancee, his Beth. This job had been both the best and the worst thing to happen to her... And then there was the baby to think of. What if it came early?

"Go home, kid," replied Stu, dipping a finger into the coffee in his hands. "There's nothin' you can do here but wait... At least at home you can be with Beth."

Cody scoffed. "You really think that those cops will let me go when they want to question us?"

"If they want to question you they can do it at the station. David's got a law degree – he'll be your lawyer. Just go home, Cody. Go and be with Beth." Every thing he said was in such a matter-of-fact tone that Cody found himself nodding, agreeing whole heartedly. "You got money for a taxi?" Cody nodded again. "Right. Go home, send Heath here and when the filth come banging on your door, go calmly. Don't upset Beth any more than need be."

* * *

It was little after noon when Cody finally reached home and he made little time in telling Heath what had happened and sending him on his way. Upon his return, Beth was sat at the kitchen table, exactly where he had left her. What was he going to tell her? Had Heath explained what 'Bennett and Slater' really dealt in? Somehow he doubted it... "Is he okay?" she asked, her tear streaked face staring up at him. "Your friend. PJ?" Cody shrugged. He couldn't find it in himself to say the words: that someone he considered a friend was on an operating table, possibly dying because of him. "And your dad?"

"When we got in there...they started talking about Dustin," he said, crouching in front of her. He hadn't seen Dustin in so long. A wave of guilt washed over him and he felt much like a child as Beth reached out a hand, running her thumb across his cheekbone. "My dad... Beth look what happened to Dustin. Look what's happened to PJ. It's all because of him..."

The blonde pulled him closer, as close as her bump would allow and let out a sigh, running her hand over his short, dark hair. "What's going to happen to him?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"I need to get five hundred thousand dollars if I want to save him."

She almost didn't want to know the answer to her next question. "And do you want to?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

"I don't know. I don't know if its worth it... I'd rather save PJ. Or Ste. Or...I'd give anything to be able to go back and save Dustin. I'd do anything to have my brother back..."

"He's your father, Cody."

"And PJ's my friend. Ste is... Ste is a friend too I guess. And Dustin...He's as good as dead, himself. And all because of dad..." Cody swallowed. "And where does someone get five hundred thousand dollars from?"

"You have to call the police, Cody. You know where they are, you know who they are, too – right?" Cody nodded, burying his face in her shoulder. "Cody you can't let them kill your father... You can't."

And with that, Cody began to cry. His arm ached and his head pounded and he was soaked in PJ's blood. He needed to sleep, to hide from everything that was going on, to slip away from reality. "Beth I don't wanna do this anymore..."

"Do what?"

"This. It's like one big nightmare...Dustin and PJ and my dad and... Beth I'm probably going to be arrested. The police were there and..."

"Cody, shut up," said Beth, pushing him back a little to look in his eyes. "I don't know what's going on. I don't know what's going to happen and, if I'm honest, I just want to scream or cry or...or something. But, for now, there's nothing I can do. And there's nothing you can do either. You've had no sleep, you're soaked in blood and, if we're going to be honest with each other – you kind of smell. You say the police already know, right? Go and have a bath. Have a bath and go to bed. If the police really are going to arrest you...you should at least be clean," she tried to joke. "Now go."

The former comic book writer got to his feet shakily, as he leaned over to place a kiss on his fiancee's lips. "I'm so sorry," he muttered before leaving her alone in the kitchen. Beth sighed once more as she placed her hands on her stomach. They shook violently and she was overwhelmed by the need to vomit. What was going on? What had happened to her fiance, her family... She wanted to cry, to call her mother and ask for a hug but, most of all, she wanted to survive. Whatever mess they were in, they could sort it. They would have to. For the baby.

Stephen's wife was frantic upon entering the relatives room, her hands shaking and her face devoid of any colour. "Louise," Stu said, pulling her into his arms, where she sobbed violently against his chest. "Louise, what's happening?" The woman did not reply, as she struggled to regain composure. Her breathing hitched and she struggled to form words as Heath rushed to get her a glass of water.

Her long, blonde hair was piled messily on top of her head, with strands falling from the snag-band to hang haphazardly around an ash-white face. "He didn't come home...I shoulda known something was wrong when he didnt come home," she gulped down the water offered to her before hiccuping loudly. "I called his cell and I called the bar and... and..." another hiccup racked her body and she finally took a seat facing the door. "They haven't told me anything, Stuart... They said there's nothing to tell." She wiped her eyes with the end of her sleeve and, for a moment, Stu was taken back by how different she looked. She looked...like an innocent. _Because she is..._ he thought, darkly. _And so was Ste. And PJ too... And the kid. _"Orbital...orbital lobe and... Oh, Stuart, what if he dies?" another wave of tears shook the blonde who was rendered speechless, her words nothing more than choking sounds.

"He's not going to die," said Heath, reaching across and taking her hands. "We won't let him." _You can't make that promise, Heath..._ Stu's mind betrayed him. _He's going to die...Him and PJ. And its all your fault. You did this..._ His fingers laced in his usually well-gelled hair. _No! _He reminded himself, a wave of anger taking over the large man. _No, it wasn't his fault. There was only one man to blame for this. Randy Orton._

Stu got to his feet and marched from the relatives room, throwing open the door as he stormed through and out of the hospital. He had a score to settle. Heath and Louise sat silently, the door of the room wide open, a window into the goings on of the hospital. The redheaded man dropped Louise's hands, keen to close the door from prying eyes, but he didn't move fast enough. Emergency lights flashed and nurses and doctors alike ran through a corridor. Before he could catch her, Louise was running after them. Ste was dying. She knew it. If her heart was pumping, she was unaware of it – everything was a blur as she pushed past nurses and doctors, throwing herself into the private room they were headed for.

She watched in horror as they pounded on the man's chest, performing a violent looking CPR, the nurses and doctors looking on intently as Doctor Laurinaitis gave in, announcing the time of death and placing the sheet over the man's face. And, though she would feel guilty later in life, Louise couldn't help but be thankful that Paul Lloyd had been the man in the bed.


End file.
